It's Just Not Cricket
by Bower-Of-Bliss
Summary: From Wikipedia - Cricket is a unique game where in addition to the laws, the players must abide by the Spirit of the Game. The standard of sportsmanship has historically been considered so high that the phrase "it's just not cricket" was coined in the 19th Century to describe unfair or underhanded behaviour in any walk of life.
1. Chapter 1

**Idiom: 'It's Just Not Cricket' – Something that is unjust or is plain wrong. **

_**For example**_:

_"Hey, did you watch the T20 match on TV last night?"_

_"Some of it. I was flicking channels because of the rain delay."_

_"Did you see the guy who kept ignoring his girlfriend during the kiss-cam segments?" _

_"Yeah, I saw that. I felt sorry for the girl. That dude totally embarrassed her in front of all of those spectators. It's just not cricket."_

-oo0oo-

**_EPOV_**

"Hey Eddo!" a voice I instantly recognise calls out from behind me as I search through the shelves of royal-blue coloured scrubs. I'm hoping to find a top that will fit me. No luck so far. They're all too big or too small.

I turn my head to acknowledge my fellow colleague – Registered Nurse Michael 'Mick' Newton – with a sound that is akin to a grunt.

"Know which anaesthetist you're paired with tonight?" he asks, grabbing a pair of large-sized pants from the middle shelf.

"Nah. I haven't looked at the allocation yet. I'll be happy with anyone as long as I'm not working with Aro again."

Mick chuckles knowingly. "Where are all the medium, large, and extra-large tops? There're pants, but no tops," he complains, picking up a 3X large top. He unfolds it and holds it in front of his chest. "How am I supposed to work wearing this? Seriously, I could fit me _and_ Fat Bastard in this thing."

"Looks like they've run out. Probably due to the weekend." I sigh in defeat.

"Evening fellas," Doctor Alice Brandon says in a sing-song voice. Squeezing herself between me and Mick, she squats down and picks up a pair of extra-small scrubs from the tangled pile. She stands and then walks towards the ladies change room across the corridor.

An idea comes to mind and I turn to look at Mick. "We're about the same size. In my locker, I've got some custom-made scrub tops from when I used to work at The Women's And Children's Hospital. You think anyone will have a problem if we wear them?"

Mick shrugs. "They'd better not. Especially if management can't be bothered to make sure we've got enough linen supplies to get us through the weekend." He tosses the tent-sized top haphazardly onto the shelf and we make our way into the changing room.

After dropping my bag to the floor, I open my locker. Reaching in, I grab the scrubs from the hangers. "Which one?" I ask, holding the items out in front of me.

He smiles at my offerings. "Spiderman," he says taking the garment from me. He pulls off his t-shirt and slips the bright red and blue top over his head. Smoothing his hands down the front, he remarks, "These are cool. I wish we could wear this sort of thing all the time instead of the boring blue."

"Yeah, but at least with the hospital-supplied scrubs you don't have to organise for the sewing room to do the laundry," I remind him. I pull on my own black and white top which displays a picture of Spongebob Squarepants on the front.

Once we are both dressed and have stowed our bags in our lockers, we exit the change room and head for the desk in the transfer bay.

Mick picks up the allocation book and grins evilly. "Too bad, man. You're working with Aro again."

I feel my lip curl up in distaste. Working with Aro Volturi is mind-numbing. He's a megalomaniac who won't allow any of the anaesthetic nurses to do much of anything, apart from going to Transfusion to collect blood, signing out drugs of dependence, or sending specimens to the lab. He also has shit taste in music. Some of the nurses don't mind, saying that they get paid the same amount whether they are rushed off their feet or sitting on their bum. Personally, though, I find it boring as hell if I can't do the job I'm trained for.

"Well, if it isn't Peter Parker and Sponge-bath Nurse-pants," Alice says, sidling up next to me and giving me a playful hip bump. "Nice shirts, boys. Which one of you two is working with me tonight?"

"Neither," Mick replies with a laugh. "I'm floating between operating theatres, recovery, and the transfer bay, and Sponge-bath is working with Aro again in theatre one. You've got Jessica in theatre three."

"Bullshit," Alice announces. "Who's the coordinator tonight?"

"Shelly," Mick replies.

Turning on her hot pink clogs, Alice heads for the administration office. Halfway along the corridor, she pulls some change out of her pocket and stops in front of the cold drink vending machine.

I look up at the clock. Addressing Mick, I say, "We've still got twenty minutes. Let's go to the staff room and get some coffee. I slept like shit today, and if I have to sit on my arse and listen to Aro's crappy Italian opera CDs all night, I'll need lots of caffeine to keep me awake."

-oo0oo-

"All sorted. You're with me," Alice announces, leaning both of her palms on the table in front of me.

"How'd you manage that?" I ask, surprised, but not unhappy with the turnaround of events. "Shelly never lets us swap the allocation without a valid reason."

"Here's a tip: Nurse Cope is a Coke addict. If you ever want to get into her good graces, you just need to buy her a can of Coke. Preferably Coke Zero, but Diet is also acceptable. Let's go, newbie."

I sigh. I've been working here at the R.A.H for over a year – one month less than Alice – and still, she likes to call _me_ 'newbie.'

"Thanks for the info." Standing from the table, I scoop up the bits of the empty Styrofoam cup I was tearing to pieces.

Mick also stands. "I'll see you 'round, Eddo. Any particular time you want me to relieve you for your meal break?"

"Around 3am. I'm going to head over to ICU and see if Tanya and I are still on for tomorrow night."

"Tanya? Which one of the Russian sisters is she again?" Mick asks as we head for the doorway.

"The unmarried one."

"Ah," he replies knowingly. "You mean the pretty blonde one with the big fake boobs."

I give him a pointed look as I discard my rubbish. Mick just chuckles and tosses his own cup into the bin.

"Come on, Sponge-boobs, it's time to go. I need to do the anaesthetic consent for our first patient in the transfer bay. Can you and Mick sign some Fentanyl and Midazolam out of the DD cupboard for me?" Alice asks.

"Yeah sure, but quit calling me 'Newbie' or 'Sponge-boobs,'" I whine as we follow her out into the corridor.

"I'll take it under consideration," she replies insincerely.

-oo0oo-

"Hey, Nurse-pants! Can you give me a hand to wheel the patient in?" Alice asks, poking her head into the operating room. "Mick is busy signing out drugs with Jess for theatre one."

"Sure thing, short-stuff," I reply, deciding that two can play at the name calling thing tonight.

"That's 'Doctor Short-Stuff' to you," she retorts with a laugh, not at all fazed. "Show some damn respect for the badge."

I follow Alice to the transfer bay, and on rounding the corner, I'm surprised to see a familiar face.

"Oh, no! Not you again," our first patient of the night moans as soon as he sees me approaching the bedside.

"I could say the same about you," I retort. "Are you stalking me, Jake?"

"Hardly. I just turned 18, so now they make me come to this hole instead of the kids hospital."

"You two know each other?" Alice asks.

"He was a frequent flyer at The Women's And Children's Hospital. When I worked there as an EN, I sat in on a few of his operations. Due to the Osteogenesis Imperfecta, I swear there isn't a bone left in his body that he hasn't broken at least once."

"Pfftt. Exaggerate much." Holding up his left middle digit, he adds, "I haven't broken this one yet."

"Is that so? Keep giving me the finger, and I can quickly rectify that situation," I joke, and then we laugh.

"So, when did you leave the kid's hospital?" Jake asks.

"Beginning of last year. I finally finished my RN training and scored a grad position here. I was planning to go back to the kid's hospital after my graduate year, but they didn't have any full-time jobs for anaesthetic RNs at the time so I stayed."

He nods in understanding. "Well, it's good to see a friendly face." Jacob smiles, but I can see that underneath the outward bravado lies a scared young man.

"Okay, you two, reunion time is over. We've got a roomful of people waiting to get this case started." Alice then proceeds to disengage the brakes on the wheels, and we push and pull the bed towards theatre three.

-oo0oo-

Once Alice and I have sedated and intubated Jacob Black, the rest of the emergency operating staff swing into action. Lauren and Angela, the scrub and scout nurses, open up their trolleys and start counting instruments. Jasper, the second scout nurse, helps Carlisle Cullen, the Orthopaedic Consultant, to don his sterile gown and gloves. Normally Carlisle wouldn't be here at this time of night, but given the complexity of Jacob's case, he had been asked to come in.

The last person to enter the operating room is James Doolan, the on-call Orthopaedic Registrar for tonight, and I have to suppress the urge to groan out loud. Doctor Doolan (AKA Doctor Douchebag) is the most conceited son-of-a-bitch I've come across. I first met him years ago when he was an intern at the kid's hospital. He wasn't too bad back then, but as he has advanced through the roles of Resident Medical Officer, and then Registrar, his ego has expanded accordingly.

Once everyone is gloved and gowned, and the operating field has been draped in sterile linen, the case begins, so that Jacob's fractured neck of femur can be repaired.

-oo0oo-

Twenty minutes into the surgery, the muffled sound of a ringing mobile phone can be heard.

"Would someone get that for me?" James asks, looking up from his work and stepping away from the sterile field. He is staring pointedly at Angela.

In response, Angela's eyes narrow. James is renowned for leaving his phone in the front pocket of his scrub pants which means that if it rings, one of the scout nurses has to reach in under his sterile gown to retrieve it.

Since Jasper has momentarily stepped out of the room to fetch a replacement diathermy pen, it's up to Angela to do it. I swear James does this shit on purpose. It's been rumoured that he goes commando under his scrub pants. Resigned to doing her duty, Angela starts to make a move to round the table, but I decide to spare her the inconvenience and embarrassment.

"Stay where you are, Ange. I'm closer. I'll get the phone for him," I say helpfully.

Before James can protest, I squat down next to him and carefully lift the lower hem of his surgical gown. The phone stops ringing, but nevertheless, I retrieve it from his pants pocket using two fingers to prevent myself from unintentionally going to second base with him. The phone chimes to indicate that a voicemail message has been left. I look at the screen.

"There's a voicemail message; do you want me to retrieve it for you?" I ask, standing up and backing away.

"Who from?" James asks.

"Doesn't say; there's just a local number."

"Okay, check the message for me."

I hit the voicemail icon and listen to the computerised introduction telling me when the voicemail message was left. Then I hear the sexiest female voice start speaking.

_"Hey, Jamie, it's me. Can you call me back? I need to speak to you urgently. Preferably inside the next ten minutes. I'm calling from work, but you can call me back on my mobile. Talk to you soon; I hope. Bye."_

"Well?" James asks expectantly, breaking me out of my aural induced daze. "Who was it?"

"Um… they didn't leave a name. It was a woman. She said it was urgent and that you should call her back within the next ten minutes. She said you could reach her on her mobile phone, but didn't leave a number. Do you want me to hold the phone up to your ear and replay the message?"

He nods. "Yeah, thanks."

I choose the replay option and position the phone so that James can listen to the message. Once the message ends, he pulls his head away from my palm.

"Go into my contacts list and look for Isabella Swan. Call her for me and ask what is so important that I had to return her call right away." Turning his concentration to Jake's hip, James reaches for a surgical pack and presses it into the wound to soak up the blood.

"Okay." I step away to do as he asks.

Taking my seat next to Alice at the head of the operating table, I scroll through his list of contacts and find the name I'm looking for. I hit the number and then listen to the call as it tries to connect. Jasper re-enters the operating room with the new diathermy pen, and he opens it for Lauren. Lauren reconnects the monopolar pen to the lead before securing it to the sterile field with a towel clip to prevent it from falling to the ground again.

Just when I think the call is going to go to a message bank, a breathless sounding voice answers. _"Jamie?"_

"No. This is Edward Masen. Jamie, I mean Doctor Doolan, he's operating right now. He asked me to call you back. Your message sounded urgent," I explain.

_"Oh… right. Okay. Can you ask him if he's free to go out with me tomorrow night?" _Isabella, the woman with the sex-voice, asks.

My eyebrows shoot up in a mixture of incredulity and irritation. This was the emergency? She calls at 10:30pm on a Sunday night to ask Doctor Douchebag on a date?

"Um… hang on."

I don't want to play phone relay to organise someone else's love life, so I stand and indicate to James that I wish to hold the phone to his ear again. He nods and steps back from the table.

"Bella?" After pausing to listen to what the woman has to say, he replies unenthusiastically, "Yeah… I suppose." Listening again he sighs loudly in exasperation before saying, "Alright. I'll ask. Look, sweetie… I can't really talk right now. I'm in the middle of a case. If I get any takers, I'll get Edward to send a text… Okay. I gotta go. Bye."

I disconnect the call and step away to take my seat next to Alice. I reach back to the desk that houses the laptop, printer, and various pieces of operating room documentation and place the phone on the desk.

"What was that about?" Doctor Cullen asks as he cauterises some small bleeders with the diathermy pen.

"Through her new job at The Advertiser, Bella's scored some tickets to the T-20 Big Bash game between the Adelaide Strikers and Sydney Thunder tomorrow night. She wanted to know if I can go with her. She also said to ask if I knew of anyone else who might like to watch the match. She's got two more tickets, but she needs to know in the next few minutes or else they'll go to one of her other colleagues. So… are you and Esme free tomorrow night?"

Doctor Cullen shakes his head. "I'm afraid not. It's Esme's birthday and we're going out to dinner."

James looks up at Jasper. "What about you, Jasper? You free?"

The expression of surprise on Jasper's face is obvious, even though the surgical mask covers most of his features. "Yeah, I'm free. I'd love to go."

"You got a girlfriend you can bring along?" James asks.

"No," he replies.

"What about you, Edward?" James asks, picking up the oscillating saw. "You want to come along?"

Ordinarily, I'd jump at the chance to go to the cricket for free, but I shake my head. "No can do. I have a date tomorrow night."

"Who with?" Jasper asks, looking at me with curiosity.

"One of the nurses from the ICU. We're going to The German Club. Adelaide Soul City is on," I explain as I reach up to change over the empty IV flask for a new one.

Lauren gasps. "Oh my God. That's the night when they play 'dad music'."

"Shut up! It's not dad music," I say defensively. "It's Northern Soul, and the music is way better to dance to than that shit they play at Red Square or HQ."

Behind her surgical mask, Lauren fake-coughs, "_OldManDancing_," and then she fakes another cough before bursting into giggles as Jasper and Angela laugh at her joke.

"It's only 'dad dancing' if you're doing it wrong," I retort. "What _you_ call dancing is just people getting drunk or stupid on ecstasy and jumping up and down."

"Well, is anyone else interested?" James asks, looking at me strangely before sweeping his gaze around at the other members of staff in the operating theatre.

"I'll go," Alice chimes in.

"Really?" James sounds surprised.

"Yeah. I've got nothing else on."

"Okay… Edward?" James asks.

"Mhmm."

"Can you send a text to Bella for me? Let her know Jasper and Alice will be joining us tomorrow night."

"Okay."

With the new flask of Hartmann's Solution hung, I reach for the phone on the desk.

-oo0oo-

I look up at the clock impatiently. It's twenty-past-three and I'm starving hungry. Just as I think about making a move towards the phone on the wall, to see what's keeping Mick, he enters the room and heads towards me.

He looks at me apologetically. "Sorry. I was supposed to relieve Jess for her meal break at two-thirty, but the patient became severely hypothermic. The case got abandoned and then we were both stuck with helping Aro to get the patient over to the ICU."

"What was the case?" Alice asks.

"Big flame burn. Sixty percenter. Self-immolation." Mick shudders, and I wince in sympathy.

"Did Jess get her break?" I ask.

"Yeah, that's why I'm late for yours."

I hand over the details of the case to Mick, which has almost wrapped up – a simple terminalisation of a severed ring finger. I exit the room and after washing my hands thoroughly at the wash trough, I head for the change room and retrieve my lunch box from my locker. I then leave the operating suite through the blue automatic doors and head around the corner. Walking past Coronary Care and the Burns Unit, I head for the step-down section of ICU.

Using my swipe card, I let myself in. Casting my gaze around the bay, I'm unable to see Tanya, so I head to the reception area. On rounding the desk, I see two nurses – one whom I'm vaguely familiar with and another I've never seen before.

"Hey," I say with uncertainty, as the two women look up at me from their paperwork. "Where's Tanya allocated tonight?"

The nurse, whom I think is called Lucy, answers, "She was looking after the guy in bed 30, but now she's on carer's leave. She left about three hours ago to take care of her niece and nephew."

"Has something happened to Irina?" I ask in concern for Tanya's older sister.

"She got admitted tonight with appendicitis. They're going to operate in the morning. You're Edward, right?" I nod. "Tanya said you might drop by. She told me to tell you that she'll have to cancel your date. Irina's husband can't get back from overseas until Tuesday, so Tanya has to take care of Jane and Alec until he returns. Before leaving, she asked me to get your phone number so she can contact you. She thought she had your number, but when she went to send you a text, she couldn't find it."

"It's okay; I'll just send her a message." I pull out my own phone to bring up her name, but then I realise I don't have her number either.

It's weird. I could swear we had exchanged numbers at some point last week before we decided to go out on a first date. Reaching for a scrap of blank paper, I write down my name and number. Lucy promises to text it to Tanya in the morning, and I thank her and leave to return to the operating suite.

On entering the staff room with my lunchbox in hand, I make myself a cup of coffee and head for one of the empty couches. I turn on the TV and using the remote, I attempt to find something the slightest bit interesting to watch while I eat my sandwiches and fruit.

Halfway through my meal, Alice enters the staff room followed by Jasper, Lauren, and Angela. They all head over to the kitchen area to make themselves some coffee. With her cup in hand, Alice takes a seat next to me on the couch.

"You look like someone kicked your puppy, Sponge-bath Nurse-pants," she says, picking up the TV remote and muting the sound of the annoying infomercial.

"Do I?" I ask, surprised.

"Either that or it's just your resting bitch-face. What's up?"

I shrug. "I'm just tired. This is my fourth night shift, and I didn't sleep well yesterday due to the heat and humidity." Alice nods in understanding. "Plus, my date just got cancelled."

"Aww, that's a shame," she replies before taking a sip of coffee. "Well… I'm all set for a night at the cricket." She grins.

"Yeah. You have a date with Jasper," I tease.

"What?"

I lean in close to her and speak quietly. "I see the way you look at him. I swear your eyes lit up as soon as he said he didn't have a girlfriend."

"No they didn't."

"The lady doth protest too much methinks," I reply.

"Shove it up your arse, Shakespeare." Alice swats me with a backhanded blow to my bicep.

"That tickled, pipsqueak." I then stage-whisper, "Hey, here comes your boyfriend now."

Jasper approaches to sit on the couch that is situated on the other side of the coffee table from us. With a groan, he collapses into the cushions. Looking to Alice he says, "I was wondering… do you want me to pick you up tomorrow night, Doctor Brandon?"

The usually unflappable Alice blushes. "Yeah, that would be great, and please, call me Alice."

As Alice and Jasper trade contact numbers and addresses, I turn my focus back to the TV. James and Carlisle enter the staff room, make themselves a cup of coffee, and then take a seat at one of the tables nearby.

With so few people in the room, their conversation can be easily heard.

"So where are you taking Esme tomorrow night?" James asks.

"Jolleys Boathouse. I don't think much of the service there, but it's Esme's favourite restaurant. She loves the outdoor dining area with the view of the River Torrens, and their tea-smoked duck."

"You might want to rethink that outdoor booking. With the cricket on next door at Adelaide Oval, the crowd gets pretty rowdy during the one-day and T20 matches."

"Bugger. I didn't even think of that," Carlisle laments. "Looks like I should have taken up the offer of those tickets after all."

Alice stands and picks up her empty cup from the coffee table. "Don't even think that you can change your mind now. You snooze you lose. Those tickets are ours, Cullen," she calls out as she walks past their table.

"That's okay, Alice. I wouldn't dream of it. Besides, you're probably better company for Bella than Esme since you are closer in age."

Alice nods in agreement as she pours herself another cup of coffee, but I suspect she has little interest in Doctor Doolan's girlfriend when she can have a legitimate excuse to hang out with Jasper.

"Speaking of Bella," Carlisle begins, "how did the move go on Friday?"

In response to the question, James groans. "Okay, I suppose. Although her shit is still sitting around in boxes all over the house, and she's driving me nuts with how much time she spends in the bathroom. I swear I could clone her or knit a beanie just from all of the hair that clogs the shower drain."

Carlisle chuckles. "They say you don't truly know someone until you start living under the same roof."

"Isn't that the truth? Seriously, she exhausts me," James complains. "I never realised just how young and energetic she is. Sometimes I want to hide under the bed to get away from her. I'm starting to think that having her move in was a mistake."

Jasper and I catch each other's gazes and look at one another in confusion. Hearing Doctor James Doolan complaining about his apparently younger live-in girlfriend in such a way makes me want to smack him up the side of his head. It also makes me want to find the poor girl and shake some sense into her. Last year, James was the runner-up in The Golden Speculum award – the award for the doctor who has scored the most points by sleeping with other members of staff.

Yeah, I know… An award for being a man-whore – so gross. When I first heard about the award, I couldn't believe that such a thing existed, but according to Alice, it's true. There really is a plaque on the wall in the bar on level 8 – a bar that is only open to medical staff.

Bedding a nurse scores the lowest points due to the vast number of nurses in the hospital. Bedding a Professor or Consultant scores the highest. Doctor Esme Platt, one of the Plastics registrars, officially won the award for 2014 because she slept with Carlisle. Esme and Carlisle got married just after Christmas. On hearing she had won the award at the staff New Year's Eve party, she was horrified and adamantly declined the title, or so I heard.

I look up at the clock and note that my break is over. After collecting my lunch box and disposing of my rubbish, I head out of the staff room.

-oo0oo-

"Thank God that's over," Lauren says with a yawn as we shuffle like zombies towards the multi-storey car park at the back of the hospital. "I think I could sleep for a week."

The last operation was a complicated multi-trauma case. A drunk driver had ploughed into a pedestrian near the Victoria Square tram stop just as she was crossing King William Street on her way to the Hilton Hotel. She was a mess.

"Yeah, I hate nights," Jess says. "By the time I acclimatise myself to day shifts, I'm allocated nights again."

"I don't mind them every now and then," Angela replies as I push on the door and then hold it open to allow the girls to pass.

As we enter the car park, we all say our goodbyes and then separate as we veer off towards our own vehicles. Alice and I walk down the ramp that leads to the underground parking bay.

"I hope you have fun with Doctor Douchebag and his girlfriend tonight," I quip as we head for our cars. I see Alice has parked her brand new, metallic-red Mazda3 in the far corner next to my crappy, old white Commodore.

"Yeah, I hope she's nice. Although there must be something wrong with her if she's dating someone like him."

"Well, according to James, she's as hairy as a sasquatch," I joke.

Alice bursts into laughter and thumbs the key fob to unlock her car door. When she calms down, she says, "Seriously though, why would any woman in her right mind date a man-whore like James."

"I dunno. Maybe he's got a huge co-"

"Ew. Don't be a pig," Alice says, interrupting me by giving me a shove.

"Get your mind out of the gutter, pervert," I retort as I aim my own fob at my car. I have to hit the fob six times before I finally hear the click of the lock. "I was gonna say huge collection of cricket memorabilia."

"Yeah, right," she snorts. "Anyway… I'll see you in a few, Sponge-bath. Have nice days off."

"You too, half-pint," I call back.

* * *

**A/N**

**The golden speculum award at the Royal Adelaide Hospital (R.A.H) is real…**

**This is a short story inspired by a YouTube video. **

**Disclaimer - I don't own the rights to any of the recognisable characters from the Twilight Saga franchise. I'm just borrowing SMeyer's characters to fulfil a constant need to place them in ridiculous situations for my own sick pleasure. I own the stories I've written and a shiny, metallic-red 2014 Mazda3 (such a pretty car). Plagiarism is uncool, so don't be a copy cat.**

**BoB xxx**


	2. Chapter 2

The sound of my ringing phone wakes me from my sleep. Cracking an eye open, I peer at the clock on my bedside table. It's not even 11am.

The fuck? Someone has a death-wish. Everyone who matters to me knows not to ring me when I'm on nights.

I had set my alarm for 12pm to get in at least four hours of sleep so as to not waste most of my days off in bed. If I get more than four hours, I'll just end up awake all night and have difficulty transitioning back to day shifts by the time Wednesday rolls around.

I reach for my phone to see it's my brother calling me.

"Fucking bullshit," I mumble before answering the phone. "Hello? Hello? Emmett?" I can hear sounds in the background, but he's not answering. "Helloooooooooo," I yell.

There's still no answer, so I hang up. Fucker probably butt-dialled me again. I roll over and pull the pillow over my head.

Although I'm willing my mind to go back to sleep, the humidity is making it difficult. Today's forecast is for 30° Celsius and rain. Although it hasn't rained yet, the moisture hangs heavy in the air, making the ducted evaporative air-conditioning completely ineffectual. I fling the sheet off my body and strip out of my boxers to lay naked, sprawled out face-down on the bed like a starfish.

When did Adelaide suddenly become the fucking tropics? I grumpily muse.

Just as I'm on the verge of sleep, my phone rings again. With a sigh of frustration, I pick up the phone and answer it. "This better be good, or you're dead meat," I growl into the phone.

_"Hang on…"_ I hear my brother say. As I wait impatiently on the line, I hear the undeniable sound of vomiting. A few minutes pass before I hear his voice again. _"I need your help, Ed,"_ he says miserably. _"Can you come over?"_

"What's wrong?" I ask.

_"I dunno. I'm just sick. I can't stop vomiting. I don't know if it's something I ate or a virus, but I feel like dying."_

"Do you have a fever or diarrhoea?" I ask with genuine familial and professional concern since I'm a nurse.

_"Diarrhoea yes. Fever; no idea. I don't have a thermometer."_

"Where's Rose?"

_"She's still in Borneo."_

Although Emmett can't see me, I nod in understanding. My sister-in-law is a travel writer and is often out of the country on assignment.

"I'll be over within the half hour."

_"Thanks, little bro. You're the best."_

-oo0oo-

Armed with a bag of supplies, I make my way to the rear of the house to let myself in through the back door. Emmett's reverse cycle air conditioning is better than at my place and the coolness hits my skin the second I step into the kitchen. I dump my things on the breakfast bar and head down the hallway to the main bedroom. The house is a pigsty and the odour of sickness hits my nostrils, but my brother is nowhere to be seen.

"Em?" I call out.

"I'm in the dunny," I hear him call back in a weak voice from the vicinity of the en-suite.

When I open the door, I see Emmett slumped on the cold floor tiles wearing nothing but a pair of cotton pyjama shorts. With great effort on my part, I manage to hoist him to his feet and we head back to the bedroom. I sit him down as gently as I can and then rotate his body to lie down on the bed.

"How long were you there on the floor?" I ask, noticing how ripe he smells. He's covered in a layer of sweat and there's a spatter of vomit on his chest.

"Not sure. I think I blacked out. I've got a headache. Everything hurts," he moans, covering his eyes with his hand.

"Did you hit your head?" I ask, going into emergency nurse-mode.

"No, I don't think so."

I quickly check him for any obvious injuries. Satisfied that he's okay, I order him to stay put and then leave the room.

Searching through the laundry cupboards, I find a couple of plastic buckets. From the linen closet, I pull out two towels and two wash cloths. I line one of the buckets with a plastic bin bag and toss the towels and washcloths inside. Then I head for the bathroom. After filling the second bucket with two inches of hot water, a few drops of liquid soap gel and some of Rose's lotion, I pour the mixture over the towels. I then make my way back to the bedroom.

"You need to freshen up," I explain when he looks at me in confusion.

Passing him one of the warm, damp washcloths, I tell him to wash his face and neck. With one of the towels, I get him to wipe down his chest, arms and legs. I tell him to roll to his stomach, and using the second towel, I wash his back for him. I start searching through his drawers for some fresh pyjama shorts, and on finding some, I place them next to him on the bed. "Here," I say, passing him the last washcloth, "clean your balls and arse. When you're finished, toss the cloth and your pants into the bucket." I turn away and leave to give him some privacy.

When I return to the bedroom, I'm loaded down with Stemetil, Panadol, a jug of water, and three different flavours of effervescent Hydralyte tablets. I place one of the lemon and lime effervescent tablets into a cup and pour in some water.

"Drink this to get the pills down," I instruct. "The Panadol will bring down the fever and help with the head and stomach pains. The Stemetil will help with the nausea, and the Hydralyte will replace the fluids and electrolytes you've lost with the diarrhoea and vomiting."

After swallowing the pills, Emmett curls up onto his side. "I really appreciate this, Ed. Geez. You're really good at this nursing shit. I swear on my life I'll never tease you about your pansy career decision ever again," he says with a hint of amusement in his voice. "You're my hero, dude."

"Yeah, they don't call me Sponge-bath Nurse-pants for nothing." I take a seat on the end of the bed.

Emmett laughs weakly. "They call you that?"

"Only Alice Brandon," I say, and then I go on to tell him the story of last night's shift and how she came to bestow me with the latest nickname."

"I like Alice. She's funny. You should date her."

"Nah. I'm not her type. Besides, she's into Jasper, one of my co-workers."

"Isn't Jasper dating a girl called Maria?" he asks, and it's then I remember that Emmett met Jasper at my 30th birthday pub crawl night last year. If there's one redeeming quality that my brother has, it's his ability to remember names and faces and facts about people's lives. It comes in handy with his career. Five years ago, Emmett started his own entertainment promotions company.

"Maria broke up with him just after the New Year," I explain. "In fact, Jasper and Alice are kind of going on a date tonight. They got free tickets to see the T20 Big Bash match."

"Should be an awesome game; as long as it doesn't rain."

"Yeah. I'm just kicking myself that I'm not going. I could have had a ticket, but I thought I was still going on a date." Again, Emmett looks at me in confusion. "I had a date, but it got cancelled. That girl I was telling you about last week – Tanya – well she has to look after her niece and nephew. Her sister got admitted to hospital last night and her brother-in-law is out of the country," I explain.

"Hmmm." Emmett yawns and his eyes start to close. "Sorry, dude, I'm tired."

"The Stemetil can cause drowsiness, but I don't think you've had it in your system long enough for it to kick in. Anyway, I'll let you get some sleep."

"Are you leaving me?"

"Nah, ya big baby. I'll stay here and look after you. Besides, I've got nothing else to do and the air-conditioning is better here than at my place."

"Thanks."

I leave the room and head for the kitchen. Feeling hungry, I open the fridge to look for something to eat. With Rose out of the country, the pickings are slim. I take out some cheddar cheese, French mustard, butter, and a half-used packet of ham slices. From the top of the fridge, I pull down a loaf of sliced bread.

As I start assembling the ingredients for my sandwich, I pause when I pick up the slice of ham. It's slimy to the touch, and when I hold it up to my nose, it smells sour. I drop the ham into the bin and when I examine the packaging, I note that it's a week past the printed use-by date. I guess I now know how Emmett got sick. I toss the rest of the package into the bin and then wash my hands before putting my cheese and mustard sandwich under the grill to toast.

-oo0oo-

"Ed?" I hear my brother call from the bedroom just as I exit the laundry.

I drop the basket of tumble-dried clothes onto the kitchen table and head for the bedroom. To keep myself busy while Emmett has been sleeping, I've cleaned the main bathroom, put on a load of laundry, swept and mopped the floors, cleaned the kitchen and the fridge, and packed the dishwasher. Rose will be back tomorrow, and the last thing she needs to return home to, after a long flight, is a sick husband and a house that looks as though a bomb has hit it.

While I love my brother, he's a bit of a chauvinist pig when it comes to household chores. He takes after our dad in that way. Dad always figured he didn't have to lift a finger to help Mum because she only worked part-time while he worked full-time. It's little wonder they got divorced.

"Hey, you're awake. How are you feeling?" I ask, taking a seat on the end of the bed.

"A bit better. I'm just wondering if I can take anything for the headache again."

I look at the clock. "You can't have Panadol because it hasn't been four hours yet. I could give you some Nurofen, but you'd need to eat something first because you shouldn't take it on an empty stomach." I stand and make up another cup of Hydralyte and pass it to him. After drinking it down, a look of pain passes over Emmett's face.

With a sudden lurch, Emmett propels himself out of the bed and runs for the en-suite. The door closes with a loud bang and then I hear him groan. I can't hear him vomiting, so I guess it must be coming out of the other end. I start to leave the room to give my brother some privacy, but his phone on the bedside table begins to vibrate.

"Your phone is ringing. You want me to answer it for you?" I call out.

"Yessssssss," Emmett hisses in pain.

"Hello? This is Emmett Masen's brother," I announce after pressing the accept call button. "Emmett can't come to the phone right now."

_"Hi. This is Heidi, the assistant talent manager at West End Promotions. I need to speak with Emmett urgently_."

"As I said, I'm afraid he's a little indisposed at the moment." I glance at the en-suite door. "Can I get him to call you back?"

There is a pause. _"Okay, but tell him it's urgent."_

"Are we talking life and death?"

_"Not quite, but it's a disaster in the making. I need his expert input."_

"Does he know how to contact you?"

_"Considering I'm his right hand at work, he most definitely should know how to reach me."_

"As soon as it's practical, I'll get him to call you back," I promise.

_"Okay, thanks."_

I hang up the phone, and it's then that the smell hits me – even with the en-suite door closed. Wrinkling my nose, I leave the room in search of some deodoriser spray. When I return with a can of Glen-20, Emmett is laying face-down on the bed.

"How do you feel?" I ask.

"Please kill me," he moans into the sheets as I resist the urge to gag on Emmett's toxic gas emissions.

"Think you could eat some Saladas so you can take the Nurofen?"

"Easily. I'm pretty sure I've just lost everything I've ever eaten."

With a hand over my nose and mouth, I liberally spray the air of the bedroom and en-suite. I've been around patients who've had Salmonella, C-Diff, Listeria, Norovirus, and Campylobacter, but I'm starting to suspect something crawled up Emmett's arse and died there.

"Who called?" Emmett asks as I start to leave the room.

"Heidi. She's got some emergency going on at work and needs your advice. You'd better call her. She sounded desperate."

"Okay."

When I return to the bedroom with some Nurofen and a plate of dry Salada crackers, Emmett is on the phone.

"Well, that's everyone on our books… Yeah, I know… Looks like we'll just have to suffer the loss of reputation. No... We don't have anyone remotely capable who can fill the requirements of the role on such short notice. Even if we-" On seeing me standing in the doorway, Emmett's expression changes from disappointment to hope. "Hang on, Heidi. Don't respond to them just yet. I've got an idea. I'll call you back." He hangs up the call and smiles at me widely.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" I ask warily. The last time he looked at me this way was when I was seven, and he convinced me to eat a snail from the garden.

"You did theatre, dancing, and gymnastics as a kid."

"Yeah," I reply with a nod, unsure of where this statement is leading.

As the kids of a wannabe stage mum, Emmett and I had been sent to dance and acting lessons from an early age. At age 12, I put my foot down and told her that I wanted to play sports instead. While I had Aussie Rules Football in mind, my mother had other ideas and enrolled me in gymnastics and swimming lessons instead. I found I enjoyed gymnastics, and as my talent progressed, Mum had hopes that I'd compete in the 2000 Commonwealth Youth Games in Edinburgh. That was until I dislocated my shoulder and tore my rotator cuff tendon during a floor exercise routine that went hideously wrong. Not able to fully trust that it wouldn't happen again, I gave up on the sport at age 15. Ironically, it was that stay in hospital that led me to choosing Nursing as a career.

"Think you can remember the moves?" Em asks.

"Why?"

-oo0oo-

"I can't believe I agreed to this," I mutter to myself as I walk up to the South Gate of The Adelaide Oval. After telling the security guy my name, he lets me into the stadium and points me in the direction of the Event Day office. I knock on the door and wait.

"Come in," a man's voice calls out.

I open the door and the man seated behind the desk looks up at me expectantly. "Yes?"

"I'm Edward Masen. I've been sent by West End Promotions?" I announce as if I'm not really sure.

"Ah! Welcome! Welcome! Come in; take a seat," the man says enthusiastically, directing me to a chair on the other side of his desk. "I'm Marcus Lorenzin. Thank you so much for coming on such short notice." He reaches over the desk and shakes my hand vigorously.

Emmett had told me that the wife of the Adelaide Strikers team mascot had gone into pre-term labour, hence the need for an emergency stand-in. In exchange for doing this favour for my brother, I'll not only get paid, I'll also get a year's worth of free front-row tickets to any concerts his promotions company is involved in.

Doing as Marcus instructs, I sit down. "I have to confess, I haven't done anything like this before. My brother, Emmett, seems to think I can do this because I have some dance and gymnastics abilities, although it's been some years, and I've never performed in a mascot costume."

"Yes, he did tell us about that on the phone, but we're desperate. We've got two hours to get you familiar with the mascot routines before the gates open. If it doesn't work out, we can still get you out there to liaise with the folks in the crowd before and during the match."

Swallowing hard, I reply, "Okay."

Pulling a piece of paper from the tray of a fax machine, Marcus places it down on the desk in front of me. "This is the contract with West End Promotions for tonight's event. Please check that all of your details are correct and then sign it here and here if you agree to the terms."

I read over the contract. When I come to the performer's fee, I almost gasp out loud. For approximately six hours of appearance time, I'll make more than twice what I earn working an eight-hour shift at the hospital – at Christmas Day rates.

After signing on the dotted line, Marcus leads me out of the room. We pass the merchandise stands and the Sir Donald Bradman memorabilia collection and take the elevator down to a restricted area that Marcus refers to as 'the bunker.' The player's locker rooms, match day meeting rooms, and gymnasium are all housed down here. He shows me to The Adelaide Redbacks locker room, and then Marcus instructs me to change into one of the pairs of shorts and t-shirts I was told to bring along. He then informs me that he'll be back shortly with Eric, the guy who plays the Sydney Thunder mascot.

My sports bag drops onto the long wooden bench with a thud, and I start toeing off my shoes, wondering what in the hell Emmett has talked me into.


	3. Chapter 3

It's a somewhat surreal feeling, standing on the hallowed turf of the picturesque Adelaide Oval, where historic sporting battles have been won or lost, and football and cricketing legends have been immortalised. If only my mother could see me now.

While I'm still unable to fully comprehend how I've come to be in this bizarre situation, I listen intently to Eric's instructions as he patiently corrects my missteps.

"Let's start back at the top," he announces.

I wipe the sweat from my brow and then dry my wet palm on the side of my shorts. The humidity in the air is at 75 percent, and it feels as if the sweat is pouring down my arms, legs, chest, and back in rivulets.

He cues the song and we take our starting places once again.

After the third run-through, I am thoroughly sick and tired of hearing Justice Crew's '_Everybody_'. This is the song Eric and I will jointly perform to in a dance-off at the half-point of the match, along with the cheerleaders and a bunch of kids. This song is only slightly less cringe-worthy than my character's theme song, which is '_Striker Time_,' a butchered version of MC Hammer's '_U Can't Touch This'_. Marcus had earlier set me up with a notebook computer to show me a video of the solo routine. After an awkward start, I quickly got the hang of it and then improvised with a few of my own moves.

Eric and I run through the dance-off routine twice more, and then he tells me that it's time to hit the showers. We need to freshen up and change clothes before donning our mascot costumes for the full dress rehearsal.

-oo0oo-

"These make me look like a tool," I complain, shaking my head and flicking one of my balls.

"Yeah, they do," Eric agrees jokingly, taking a seat on the bench now that he too is in costume, apart from the headpiece.

'Smash' – the Adelaide Strikers mascot – is a superhero, cartoon-type character. He has a large, blue body and blue hair, and his outfit is accented with silver boots and a long, silver cape. The most ridiculous parts of the costume are the detachable silver cricket balls that dangle and jiggle around at waist height whenever I move.

Eric is only slightly luckier in that his character, Maximus Thunder, appears more human-like and is less bulky in the arms and legs. He does, however, have the misfortune in that he is forced to carry around a stupid green lightning bolt most of the time, whereas I have a big silver cricket bat.

"Turn around and get down on your knees for a bit. I'm going to put this on you," Sasha, the mascot assistant says as she dangles a black cotton, Zorro-like mask in front of my face.

"Kinky," I say with an eyebrow wiggle, before doing as she instructs and dropping to my knees before the petite, grey-haired woman. "So, what's this for?" I ask as she drapes the material over my eyes and starts to tie it at the back of my head.

"It'll soak up the sweat and stop it from running into your eyes since you won't be able to touch your face once the headpiece is on. It'll also prevent your face from being visible to the public through the meshed material of Smash's mouth."

With the mask tied, Demetri Baldwin, the head of security, places a behind-the-head mic and earpiece set on me. After making some adjustments, he's satisfied and steps back to allow Sasha to continue on with her work. I turn and glance at the final piece of the costume to be applied – the massive headpiece with its mouth in a wide, frozen smile. Sasha picks it up from the bench and shows me the inside of it. I'm pleased to discover that there's a battery powered fan at the top, similar to the type of internal cooling fan you'd find inside a computer.

"Tilt your head and upper body forward for me," Sasha says, and I do as she asks. "I hope you're not someone who gets claustrophobic…"

"I should be okay," I reply. "I'm used to wearing a surgical mask most of the time at work."

"Where do you normally work?" she asks.

"At the RAH; I'm a nurse."

"Ah," she says in acknowledgement as she lowers the headpiece over my head. "Now, reach up, hold the headpiece, and stand up slowly. I'll fasten the chinstrap for you."

I straighten my body, and Sasha reaches her hands inside the head. She clips and then tightens the chinstrap.

"Can you still breathe?" she jokes as she attempts to lift up the headpiece.

"Just… barely," I fake-gasp.

"Nod your head front to back and side to side for me." I do as she says. "How's that? Does it feel secure?"

"Yeah, but it's already getting stuffy in here," I complain.

"I'll turn the fan on now." Carefully reaching up inside the headpiece once again, Sasha fiddles with a switch. There is a quiet, whirring sound as the fan pulls in fresh air from the outside and blows it directly onto the top of my head.

I draw in a deep breath, a move that reminds me that over my t-shirt lays an ice-filled vest. It's there to keep my upper body cool, therefore preventing me from developing heat stress inside the bulky, foam costume.

Chewing nervously on a piece of strawberry flavoured gum, I listen to Demetri as he tests the communication system. Eric and I are wearing two-way communication sets that allow us to talk to each other, Marcus, and Felix, another security officer. Felix will be stationed beneath the historic scoreboard, in the standing-only section on the Northern Mound that is colloquially known as '_The Hill_'. Should we notice or run into any trouble in the crowd, we can relay a message to Felix, who can then alert the other members of security. If at all possible though, we are only to speak if we are out of hearing distance from the public, particularly little children, so that we don't ruin the illusion of our characters.

Eric's voice speaks directly into my right ear via the earpiece. "Ready for the dress rehearsal?"

"No," I reply jokingly while being somewhat truthful. "I have no idea how I'm going to pull off the cartwheels and other acrobatic manoeuvres with this huge thing on my head."

He laughs. "You'll do fine," he says in reassurance, the sound coming clearly through the earpiece once again. "Just dance like no one is watching."

I let out a huge sigh. "Right. Whatever you say."

-oo0oo-

The dress rehearsal went well, and as soon as it was over, Marcus briefed us on our other mascot responsibilities for the night.

Our duties started with us hanging out near the Nemo jumping castle in the kid's zone. We posed for photographs with anyone who wanted a picture and signed autographs. We also handed out the freebie merchandise from the various sponsors.

After performing our solo dances, we – or should I say, Maximus and Smash – took part in some on-field cricket action. We joined in with the eight to twelve-year-old kids during the MILO Junior T20 Blast demonstration.

Until now, it's gone off without a hitch, but for the moment, Eric and I are in limbo. With the rain coming down, the start of the match has been postponed, so we are waiting in the locker room for Marcus to tell us what to do next. Although the forecast for rain was known, it hasn't dampened the spirits of the 30,000 plus cricket fans who have passed through the turnstiles in the hope that the match will go on.

Loud music is pumping out of the many speakers throughout the ground to keep the crowd entertained, and every so often, a Mexican wave sweeps around the pavilions.

Marcus enters the room with a phone held up to his ear, and Eric and I look up at him in expectation. He hangs up the call and points directly at me.

"Okay, Smash, you need to get out on the field. With the rain delay, we need to change things around. In a moment, there's going to be a five-minute pyrotechnics display. Then JEEP, the major sponsor of The Strikers, is going to present the Grand Cherokee to the winner of the 'Win A Jeep' contest, rather than doing it at half-time. Here; take these and get ready to go out there," he says, thrusting a pair of keys into my padded, foam-gloved hand.

-oo0oo-

Thankfully, we've had a break in the weather, and now at 8.25pm the covers are just coming off the middle of the oval. The crowd is excited that they'll get to watch the match after all, although a somewhat shortened one. Instead of each side playing twenty overs each, they'll now play just ten.

In the centre of the field, Chris Hartley from Sydney Thunder wins the coin toss and elects to bowl.

-oo0oo-

"Lay-deeeeeez and genlemennnnn, please welcome the Sydney Thunderrrrrrrr!"

Pyrotechnic flame projectors ignite, shooting orange flames several metres into the air as the Sydney Thunder team starts running through the players' race onto the field. Eric is dancing on the spot and patting the team members on their backs as they pass by him. The cheerleaders also dance along to the music – AC/DC's '_Thunderstruck'_ – as the players head for their positions around the oval.

Standing in front of The Strikers' dugout, I figure I'm unlikely to be heard over the roar of the crowd. I activate the communication system and then start singing the '_Thunder Buddy Song_' from the movie '_Ted_' to Eric as a joke.

"When you hear the sound of thunder, don't you get too scared.  
Just grab your thunder buddy, and say these magic words:  
Fuck you, Thunder. You can suck my dick.  
You can't get me, Thunder, because you're just God's farts…"

The sound of laughter ripples around the stands as everyone's attention is directed towards The Hill, where a group of 50 or so guys with promotional KFC buckets on their heads can be heard singing.

_"When you hear the sound of thunder, don't you get too scared.  
Just grab your thunder buddy, and say these magic words…"_

Okay… That's weird. I'm confused.

_"Fuck you, Thunder. You can suck my dick.  
You can't get me, Thunder, because you're just God's farts…"_

"Edward?" Marcus says calmly through the earpiece, causing me to wince as more and more members of The Strikeforce crowd join in to sing the chant again. "What the hell was that?"

"Um… I don't know how that happened," I reply sheepishly. "I was just singing a song to tease Maximus Thunder…"

I hear the sound of Eric's laughter, and when I turn to see him near his team's dugout, he's dropped his lightning bolt on the ground and is doubled over.

"I tell you how it happened," Felix's voice starts, instantly clearing up my confusion. "You forgot that I'm also on this channel, so your little song went out over my radio to the bucketheads on The Hill," he says with a chuckle.

"Oops." Relieved that I'm not in trouble, I start laughing too.

Before The Strikers' fans can sing yet another round, Adelaide's theme song starts blaring through the speakers. The majority of the crowd rises to its feet and erupts into cheers and yelling. Like Pavlov's Dog, my body begins to go through the motions of the solo dance without much thinking on my part.

The announcer calls out the names of the Adelaide opening batsmen, Craig Simmons and Tim Ludeman. The crowd, all decked out in blue paraphernalia, goes completely nuts as the players stand from the bench and make their way to the field, high-fiving my palm as they pass me by.

-oo0oo-

It's 9.45pm, and a few minutes ago, it started raining in earnest.

After removing my costumed head and towelling my neck, I look up at the monitor on the wall of the locker room and watch the live TV coverage as the groundsmen arrange the rain covers on the pitch. Eric and I are taking a moment to ourselves to rehydrate while waiting for guidance from Marcus as to what we should do next.

The song '_Blurred Lines_' is playing loudly over the sound system. While some spectators have given up and decided to leave the ground, most are steadfastly staying put and hoping for a reprieve from the rain. I spit out my wad of flavourless gum into the nearest bin and then gulp down half a bottle of chilled water. Taking a seat on the bench next to Eric, I use the remaining water in the bottle as a cold pack and hold it against my cheeks and neck to cool down my skin. The ice vest I'm wearing over my t-shirt has long melted, feeling somehow heavier and adding to the humidity inside the costume.

On the screen, the TV commentators praise the work of The Strikers during their innings. They scored five out for 119, including five fours and ten sixes for a required run rate of 12 per over. Alex Ross, in particular, was impressive. He scored 30 runs – not out – from 11 balls, hitting three sixes in the last over.

It's just a pity that the rain disrupted play again. The Thunder only managed to face six balls before the rain started to come down, but they made the most of them by scoring an admirable 18 runs. Even before the changeover, however, there were signs that the rain might start up. For this reason, Marcus made the decision to cancel the mid-game dance-off, choosing to get the players back on the field as quickly as possible. I can't say I was disappointed.

"Okay, guys," Marcus says as he enters the locker room. "Channel Ten is going to an ad break. After the next song, we're going to do a kiss-cam segment until we can work out if this weather pattern has set in. For every four minutes we're off the ground, we're going to lose an over. If we can't get back on the field by 10.00pm and get the covers off, we can't get in five overs, meaning the game will be abandoned. You've got a few minutes to get in amongst the crowd and keep them entertained until the kiss-cam segment."

I stand up and stow my bottle of water inside the locker before grabbing a new piece of strawberry gum and popping it into my mouth. After Sasha helps us to reapply our costume heads and gloves, Eric and I leave the locker room and then head in separate directions as soon as we exit the elevator.

Although it's raining, I note that it's not coming down too hard. As I make my way down one of the aisles, heading towards a flat area between two large groups of spectators, '_Love Me Again_' by John Newman starts playing. It's one of the few commercially available songs I actually like, probably because the Romeo and Juliet inspired video clip features people in it who are dancing Northern Soul.

Unconsciously, my feet start shuffling, easily finding the off-beat. I spin 360 degrees, do a backdrop, and rise again, only to drop down into a split. I pop back up to my feet, clap, do another spin, and then start twisting my hips and shuffling my feet. It's not an easy feat to shuffle in this bulky mascot suit on a concrete surface. My footwork is far more elegant in a pair of slippery-souled brogues on a talc-powdered, wooden dance floor, but I'm having fun, nonetheless.

I drop forward into a press up, rise, perform another 360 spin, and suddenly find I'm facing a young, brunette woman wearing a tight, lime-green and black, Sydney Thunder t-shirt.

Thinking that she wants to walk by me to get back to her seat, I shuffle to the side of the walkway, but unbelievably, she stays where she is.

Though my field of vision is somewhat limited by the black, densely meshed material that makes up Smash's mouth, I soon realise the woman is, in fact, dancing. But not only is she dancing, she's dancing Northern Soul, and this discovery makes me stop dead in my tracks.

"You can't stop now!" the woman cries over the sound of the music to be heard. "Keep dancing!" she urges before doing a double spin which causes her long hair to fan out in all directions.

She stops her spin and faces me again. Her arms swing and her feet start shuffling, taking two steps in one beat. I suddenly forget how to breathe when I get a load of her shapely legs which are on display because she's wearing black shorts and Converse sneakers without socks. Even on the concrete, she moves like she's levitating on air. She's magnificent, and it takes me a few beats to remember to acquiesce to her demand and start dancing again.

My eyes can't take in enough of the girl, and I curse the fact that I'm wearing this stupid mascot costume. Her upper body posture is tall, and she looks straight ahead as she slides with one foot while swivelling with the other. She is gorgeous, and it's clear that she's no Northern Soul amateur. I'm curious to know how long she's been dancing, and I only wish she was from Adelaide. I do a quick one-handed handstand, and when I become upright, she laughs with joy as we both lose ourselves to the dance in the rain.

All too soon, the song comes to an end, and we stop and stare at each other. She's smiling widely and breathing hard, causing her breasts to rise and fall rapidly. Everything about this girl is appealing, from her joyful smile, her laugh, her long chestnut coloured hair and her body. The costume is no longer a curse, as it affords me the anonymity to take in the shape of her breasts as they strain against the wet fabric of her tight t-shirt. I have an insane urge to bury my face into her chest, and I'm thankful that the crotch area of this suit is also well padded.

"You're a great dancer," the woman says.

Knowing I'm not meant to speak, I merely reach for the woman's wrist with the intention of giving the illusion that Smash is kissing the back of her hand. To my surprise, she goes one further by stepping forward and embracing me in a hug. And once again, I'm back to cursing the suit because I can't properly feel her through all the layers of padding as she presses her body against me.

Releasing my neck from her hold, she says, "I wish I could see what you look like in there." She pulls back and seems to stare directly into my eyes before placing a quick kiss on the meshed screen. The kiss was unexpected, so I didn't have time to try to angle my neck to try to meet her lips with my own. _Fucking costume!_

Taking a step back and breaking all body contact, she then says, "See ya, Soul Boy," and then she turns away from me.

Unable to break with protocol, I don't say anything as she walks towards the front row. I stare after her, transfixed by the sight of a Northern Soul '_Keep The Faith_' patch sewn onto the arse pocket of her tight shorts. I place my hand over my chest, feeling as if my heart is going to explode.

_Okay. That's it. Fuck you Adelaide – I'm quitting my job and moving to Sydney!_

Taking the seat at the end of the row, the woman turns her head to look at me again and smiles. She then taps the shoulder of the person next to her, a man with blonde hair. The man turns and looks at me with disinterest and then quickly turns back to the front.

In that fleeting instant, my dick deflates when I recognise who the guy is – Doctor Douchebag.

It's then that I notice the other two people sitting to the left of James – Jasper and Alice.

"Oh, Fuck," I groan in disappointment, coming to the devastating reality that _my_ Sydney Soul Girl doesn't actually live in Sydney after all. The girl of my dreams is, in actual fact, Isabella Swan – James Doolan's live-in girlfriend.

I realize, too late, that I've spoken out loud when I hear a kid's voice say, "Mummy? Smash said a rude word."

Deciding to make a hasty retreat, and get out of the rain, I walk to the top of the aisle feeling utterly dejected. Ironically, '_Lonely Boy_' by The Black Keys starts to play. I glance up at one of the many jumbo screens that surround the stadium, and I see the words 'KISS CAM' flashing in hot pink letters. I stop at the top and turn around to lean my back against one of the building's support pylons.

The many cameramen around the oval pick out couples in the crowd. Appearing overjoyed when they see their faces on the big screens, the couples pucker up and give the crowd what they want. The bucketheads, who are standing on the hill, are just 20 metres to the left of where I am. They are the most vocal group in the stadium, and they hold up the 4 or 6 score cards to award the couples points for style.

Halfway through the song, I laugh when I see Alice and Jasper's faces appear on the screen. Jasper alerts Alice to the fact that they are on camera, and they look at each other with uncertainty. Unhappy with the delay in kissing action, the bucketheads start to voice their disapproval by booing. Jasper leans in to say something into Alice's ear, and then she smiles shyly and nods. They then align their faces and kiss. Their kiss is short and sweet and they quickly separate. The bucketheads don't appear to be impressed, with only a handful of them holding up 4s. Alice notices them and scowls.

With a look of determination, Alice suddenly launches her face back towards Jasper's, and she starts kissing him passionately. Jasper is momentarily taken by surprise, but he soon reciprocates with equal fervour.

I have no idea if Jasper ever had his tonsils out as a kid, but if not, the next time I see him, I'll have to ask if they went missing during this particular kiss. I laugh when I hear a roar of approval coming from the vicinity of The Hill.

When Alice and Jasper finally break apart, they turn to the left to look at the bucket heads. Alice throws her hands in the air and cheers excitedly when she sees they are all holding up their 6 signs – upside down. She yells something that looks a lot like, "_Score!_"

The cameraman then moves from Alice and Jasper, and bile rises into my throat when I see Isabella and James on the screen.

Isabella smiles at the camera, but James doesn't seem to notice what is going on. He appears to be looking at something on his phone. She looks at James and says something, but he just shakes his head. She looks back at the camera, smiles sweetly and then waves, but the bucketheads can smell the blood in the water and they boo loudly.

Isabella starts giggling and again says something to James, who looks up momentarily, seemingly annoyed. She points out the booing bucketheads, but James merely rolls his eyes and goes back to looking at his phone once again. The booing gets even louder, but mercifully, a new couple appears on the jumbo screen, and they happily oblige the crowd with a kiss. A few more couples pucker up, with many hamming it up for the crowd.

Then Isabella and James appear on the screen again. Her eyebrows shoot up in surprise, and she turns to speak to James, who seems to be busy talking on the phone. She gives him a backhanded touch to his shoulder to get his attention, but he ignores her. Boos again erupt from the crowd, and then the camera focuses on another couple.

What the fuck is James' problem?

He's sitting next to his hot, young girlfriend and it seems he can't even be bothered to give her the time of day, let alone a kiss for the camera. What a fucking moron! If she were my girl, everyone in this stadium would know, undeniably, my feelings for her. Hell! Everyone watching the telecast throughout Australia would know she was mine.

The song changes to One Republic's '_Counting Stars,_' and it appears that the rain is not going to let up. More couples kiss for the camera. Incredibly, the camera settles on James and Isabella again.

James is still talking on the phone, and it appears that Isabella has given up hope, not even acknowledging the camera. When the crowd starts booing, something in my heart twists for this girl who has been publically humiliated.

Without a conscious thought on my part, I find myself running down towards the front row. On reaching her seat, I bend down and scoop her up into my arms. Then I turn and start running back up the aisle towards the stadium complex.

Compared to me, Isabella is a tiny little thing and seems to weigh nothing at all. She wraps her arms around my neck, and I laugh when I hear her shrieking and giggling hysterically. A loud roar explodes from the crowd just as I reach the top of the aisle. I have no idea of what is going on behind me, but I don't take the time to pause, just in case James is chasing after me having realised that I've just taken his girl.

Edward Masen is a lover, not a fighter.

I run and keep on running until I'm well inside the building and find myself standing before the silver doors of the employee's elevator. Doing a high kick, I somehow manage to push the down button with my silver-booted foot. The number at the top of the elevator lets me know it's currently on level 6.

"C'mon, c'mon," I whisper to myself impatiently.

"You can let go of me," I hear Isabella say, shocking me into reality.

Then the full enormity of what I've just done hits me like a tonne of bricks.

I've virtually kidnapped a girl in front of more than 30,000 people; even more if I take into consideration the TV audience. I quickly lower Isabella to the ground, allowing her to stand on her own two feet. In frustration, I slam my hand on the down button again when I see the elevator lights slowly blink past level 5, but stop at level 4.

"That was hilarious, and really sweet of you to do that," Isabella says.

"Right," I say absently, while pressing the button multiple times as if doing so will make the elevator come faster.

"Oh, so you _can_ talk!" she says with a laugh.

Isabella's laugh is like music to my ears, and my thoughts suddenly segue straight into the gutter. Combined with her sex-voice, I begin to wonder what all of her other noises are like.

"Erm. Y- yeah…" I stutter, snapping my thoughts away from x-rated mental images. "I'm just not meant to speak with the costume on."

"I see."

We are silent, and I stare up at the numbers, willing the world's slowest elevator to get a move on. I briefly turn to look at her, wondering why she's still standing here next to me.

"You should probably go back," I say.

"Probably; but just not yet. I have a favour to ask," she says matter-of-factly.

I look at her in confusion, but then I remember I have a stupid costume on my head, so she can't see my expression. "What?"

"Take your head off," she demands.

"Uh. No." I push the button again and the elevator light changes. Level 3. _Fuck!_

"A superhero deserves a thank you kiss for saving a damsel in distress, don't you think? Let me unmask you."

"Huh?" I suddenly have visions of upside-down kisses and doing it Spiderman-style.

She giggles. "You're not the brightest crayon in the packet, are you? Even if you are all blue."

Isabella moves in close to me. Reaching her hand inside the headpiece of the costume, she grips the chin strap that holds Smash's head onto my own. Before I can fully register what she's gone and done, the large headpiece is falling off of me, backwards. The fact that the large head is made of foam causes it to bounce and then skitter across the polished floor until it comes to rest against the side of a rubbish bin.

"Shit!" I hiss, weaving as fast as I can between spectators to retrieve it. It's then that I note the building is filling up with more and more people. Somehow, I must have missed the announcement that the match has been called off.

"Mummy! Smash said another rude word," a familiar little voice says accusingly, as I pick up my headpiece from the ground.

I look around and figure that it must have been the same kid as before when I dropped the F-Bomb. Thankful that the cloth eyemask that is tied around my head still allows me to maintain some semblance of anonymity; I race back to the elevator with my head tucked under my arm. Just as I reach the elevator doors, they open like the gates of heaven and two security guards start to exit.

"Move. Move. Move!" I demand, leaping into the sanctuary of the polished steel box. My headpiece drops to the floor as my body crashes against the back wall, and then rebounds into the corner. I turn just in time to see Isabella step inside the elevator.

With a hand poised over the control panel, and a wicked look in her eyes, she says, "Are we going up? Or are we going down?"

"_We," _I say with emphasis, "aren't going anywhere together. Not unless you want to see James cut me up into a million pieces with a bone saw." I gently grab her by the shoulders and march her out of the elevator.

"Wait? You know Jamie?" she asks, wheeling around to face me.

"No," I lie, turning to re-enter the elevator, but somehow, Isabella manages to step directly in front of me, barring my way.

"You do know him," she says accusingly. "You said his name."

"No, I didn't," I insist.

A look of hurt crosses her features, and suddenly I feel like shit for causing that expression on her lovely face. Without thinking of the consequences of my actions, I press my lips to hers, firstly to give her what she wants, but also to use the kiss as a distraction, so I can spin her around and get myself back inside the elevator.

As soon as our lips meet, however, I'm done for.

What I intended to be just a quick peck rapidly escalates into something more, and right now, wild horses couldn't make me drag my lips away from hers.

I hear a small moan from Isabella as our kiss deepens, causing my dick to harden. My hands reach up to cup the back of her head so I can delve my fingers between the strands of her long, thick hair. But- _Fucking gloves!_

The realisation that I'm still wearing this stupid costume brings me back to my senses, as does the sound of a male voice calling her name. We quickly break apart at the sound.

"Bella?" James says again in alarm.

Simultaneously, I manage to push the button to the basement with my left hand while gently pushing against Isabella's shoulder with my right.

The last things I see before the doors close in front of my face, is Isabella's slightly dazed and confused expression, and James, Jasper, and Alice rushing up behind her.

* * *

**A/N - Thanks to all who read, fave, follow, and review. **

**If you are at all interested in seeing what Smash and Maximus Thunder look like, as well as views of Adelaide Oval during a T20 match, check the section on my bio page called banners and slideshows. Or if you want to laugh, Google the phrase "smash strikers mascot video" to see Smash dancing to his theme song on YouTube.**

**BoBxx**


	4. Chapter 4

Stepping under the spray of the shower, I close my eyes and allow the lukewarm water to cascade over my skin, enabling it to cool me from head to toe.

Before taking off the body of the costume, I'd been pre-warned by Eric that every stitch of clothing I'd worn underneath it would be soaking wet. Talk about an understatement. Seriously, it was even worse than that one time I had to sit in on a ten-hour case in the Burns Unit theatre. How those guys manage to operate in sauna-like conditions as often as they do has always amazed me, and now I have a new admiration for mascots, too.

Feeling sufficiently cooled, I increase the water temperature and start lathering body-wash all over my skin to properly rid myself of the stench of sweat. With all of the costume pieces off, I couldn't even abide the odour of my own body as soon as I copped a good whiff.

As I wash, I consider the insanity that's occurred over the last few hours; from learning how to dance in a mascot suit, to being responsible for the corruption of several thousand minors by causing a crowd to sing the '_Thunder Buddy Song_.' Mostly though, my thoughts linger on the kiss that tilted my entire world; a kiss that I should regret, but can't find it inside myself to do so.

_I can't believe I kissed her like that. _

I'm no lunch-cutter. I'm not the sort of guy who goes after another man's girl; not even if that man is a douchebag like James. It goes against everything my mother ever taught me about being honourable.

"See ya, Edward," Eric's voice calls out, breaking into my introspection. "I'm off."

"Yeah, see ya. Thanks for all your help tonight," I call back.

"No worries. Maybe I'll see you 'round here some other time?"

I laugh at the absurdity. "Not bloody likely."

He laughs too. "Okay, then..."

I hear the door close, and then apart from the sound of running water, there is silence.

A few minutes pass, and as I wash my hair, my mind goes back to Isabella and the kiss.

_That kiss…_

I have no idea why she wanted to kiss me so badly. _What's her deal?_ I'm so confused because everything I know about the girl makes no sense.

She's James' live-in girlfriend, but James is a renowned man-whore. He's supposed to be her boyfriend, yet he all but ignored her in front of thousands of people tonight. She was wearing a Sydney Thunder shirt, but she lives in Adelaide. She dances Northern Soul like an expert, and yet I've never seen her at the monthly Adelaide Soul City nights. As far as I know, it's the only time where those of us who are into the Northern Soul scene get together.

Then there's the fact she wanted to see my face and kiss me. _What was with that?_

To me, Isabella Swan is a puzzle, and none of the pieces seem to fit.

Unless…

There's only one explanation that makes an ounce of sense, and the thought of it brings on a wave of regret that up until now has been missing. Maybe Isabella is one of those girls who love to make their boyfriends all jealous and shit, so they'll fight for them and show them attention.

With that horrible, sickening epiphany, I rinse out the shampoo and then turn off the taps. I dry off as quickly as possible and then tie the towel around my waist. As I make my way towards the locker where my things are stored, Marcus enters the room.

"Edward," he says, "you're still here; that's great, I thought I might have missed you. I just wanted to thank you once again for coming in and helping us out in a pinch."

"That's okay. Glad I could help." I reach into my toiletries bag and pull out a can of deodorant spray.

"With tonight's match being abandoned, and each team scoring one point, The Strikers have already secured a semi-finals berth. Win or lose against The Renegades next Monday night in Melbourne, they'll still be at the top of the leader board. That means the semi-final will more than likely be here at Adelaide Oval on the 24th of January."

"That's great news," I say distractedly as I take aim and fire the aerosol into my armpit.

"Right. Well, I was wondering if you could come back in another 12 days and do it all again? Our usual mascot didn't become a father tonight after all, but it's a twin pregnancy so it could be anytime soon. We're hoping to have a local backup should his missus go into labour again." Surprised at his request, I lose my grip on the can of deodorant and it falls and clatters loudly onto the tiled floor. "Um… I take it from the horrified expression on your face that your answer is, 'No.'" Marcus looks disappointed.

"No offence, mate, but I think my answer is more of a _Hell No_. This was a one-off gig. You couldn't pay me triple what you gave me tonight to get me to go through that again. Thanks, but no thanks. I'll stick to my usual job."

He nods. "Fair enough. Well, thanks again for coming in tonight. All of us here at the Adelaide Oval really appreciated it, especially the team." He holds out his hand and I shake it. "It was great meeting you, Edward."

"You too," I say, just to be polite.

Pulling a business card out of his shirt pocket, he says, "If you change your mind, or if you're ever after a couple of Adelaide Strikers match tickets, give me a call."

"Sure," I say, taking the card from him and sliding it into my open toiletries bag.

-oo0oo-

On exiting the employee's elevator, I see there are various members of the cleaning staff milling about the main concourse. They are emptying rubbish bins, sweeping floors, and standing by with large industrial polishers in preparation to clean the vast expanses of flooring. It takes me a moment to find the person I'm looking for.

"Hi," I say as soon as I spot Felix, the security guard.

"Hey, Edward," he replies. "You want to get out?"

"Yeah, thanks." Our voices seem to echo around the building now that it's empty of patrons.

"Follow this way," Felix says, and we start walking towards a side exit. "So, did you have fun tonight?"

I hoist my sports bag higher on my shoulder. "I don't think _fun_ is the word I'm looking for. It's certainly something I won't forget in a hurry, though," I say with a small, sardonic laugh.

Felix chuckles. "I think you've really started something with that song. You watch – I bet that shit'll go viral on YouTube, along with the part where you grabbed that girl from her boyfriend and ran off with her."

"Yeah," I say unenthusiastically, not really in the mood to talk about it.

"Even funnier was the moment when the bloke sitting behind them tipped his bottle of water over the guy's head because he didn't even realise you'd taken off with her."

I feel my eyebrows shoot up in surprise. "Huh?"

Felix continues, "Then his other female friend got into an argument with the bloke and threw _her_ drink in his face. That was hilarious."

I stop walking. "Whoa, whoa, whoa. Hang on."_ I'm confused._ "Who did she throw her drink on?"

"The bloke in the row behind them. He was the one who poured water on the head of the other guy while he was still on the phone."

"You mean to tell me that someone actually dumped a drink over James' head and then Alice threw her drink back at them?" _That must have been what the loud roar of the crowd was all about_.

"Yep, it was classic- Wait! You actually know those people? Was that stunt scripted?"

I shake my head. "No, it wasn't scripted, but I do know them."

"So, do they know it was you in the costume?"

"I'm not sure," I reply. "Although, there's a possibility they might have recognised me after the match."

"You think the guy will come after you for taking off with his girl? Do you need me to escort you to your car?"

I shake my head again. "No. I'm pretty sure James isn't the type to wait outside, in the dark and the rain, to attack," I say nonchalantly._ It's more likely that he'd be the sort of guy who'd bail me up in the change room at work._

Quietly, Felix starts singing the Thunder Buddy Song to himself as we walk again. When we reach the door, he unlocks and then opens it. He pokes his head outside. It's pouring.

"Where is your car?" he asks.

"In the carpark at the Royal Adelaide Hospital. I have a permit."

"That's a 20-minute walk. Are you sure you'll be all right? It's bucketing out there."

"I'll be fine," I reply, unzipping my bag and pulling out my umbrella.

"Enjoy the rest of your night then," Felix says cheerfully as he opens the door wider to let me out of the building.

"You too," I reply, raising my umbrella and stepping out into the downpour.

-oo0oo-

Distracted by my thoughts of Isabella Swan, I'm jarred into the present when I turn the key to switch off the ignition. My car makes a horrible noise and shudders before becoming silent. I stare ahead; surprised to see I'm in Emmett's driveway. I don't even remember making the decision to drive to my brother's house instead of going home.

I get out of the car and hit the key fob. Miraculously, it locks the first time, and I head around to the back of the house. Behind me, my car is making a strange ticking sound and there is a strong, acrid odour of hot car oil. If there's one consolation about tonight, it's that the money I made from the performance will come in handy. First thing tomorrow, I'm going to book my car in for a tune-up and service.

Using my key, I let myself into Emmett and Rose's house. As I enter the living room from the kitchen, I see my brother lying on the couch watching TV.

"Hey," he says with a grin, shifting himself on the couch to sit up. "How was it?"

"Like you weren't watching," I say sarcastically.

He grins. "From my point of view it looked like you did an excellent job. You were hilarious." He lifts the TV remote to lower the volume.

I shrug, not really sure of what to say right now. "Are you feeling any better?" I ask, changing the subject and taking a seat on the end of the couch.

"Yeah, heaps better."

Emmett and I are quiet for a while as we both stare at the TV; looking at it, but not actually watching what is going on.

"Are you okay?" Emmett asks with concern.

"I kissed a girl…"

"…And you liked it?" he asks jokingly.

"Yeah, I did; that's the problem."

"What do you mean?"

"She's the girlfriend of someone I know; someone I work with."

I go on to tell my brother the events of the evening. "What am I going to do?" I ask, as soon as I finish telling him about the part where James, Alice, and Jasper witnessed our kiss and rushed up behind Isabella just before the elevator doors closed.

"I dunno," he replies. "I guess you should cross your fingers and hope you weren't recognised, or else pray that James isn't the jealous psycho type of boyfriend."

"That's what worries me the most. I've heard about the way he deals with people who get on his bad side."

A few weeks ago, Jason Jenks, one of the theatre orderlies, walked into the changing room to find James yelling at Seth Clearwater, who is one of the other Orthopaedic Registrars. Jason had no idea why James was so angry, but apparently he was really going off at Seth. Jason said that from the expression on Seth's face, it looked as though he was going to cry. It was just lucky that Carlisle Cullen happened to walk in and managed to calm James down.

"You could always change careers," Emmett says.

"And do what?"

"Maybe you could become a professional mascot…"

I give my brother a look that says, '_Don't even go there_,' and he just laughs.

* * *

**A/N - A _lunch cutter_, is a guy who purposely goes after another guy's love interest. It's an Aussie way of saying, "Don't cut another man's grass."**

**BoB xx **


	5. Chapter 5

For me, the arrival of Wednesday morning's early shift has come way too soon for my liking. I've only managed a grand total of six hours sleep over the past 48 hours. Feeling the way that I do, I shouldn't be here. In fact, I shouldn't have even driven my car.

My trepidation about coming face to face with James Doolan at work has had my muscles in knots and robbed my brain and body of many hours of sleep. Even now, my clumsy fingers aren't cooperating as I stand in front of the change room mirror while attempting to tie my blue theatre hat at the base of my skull. Looking at my reflection, I can see dark circles under my eyes.

"Hey, Edward," Carlisle Cullen says in greeting as he enters the change room.

"Hi," I reply with zero enthusiasm.

"Are you all right? You look like shit," he states matter-of-factly. Standing before one of the lockers, Carlisle loosens and then pulls off his tie.

"I'm fine. Thanks for the compliment," I grumble. Satisfied that I've finally got my hat on properly, I turn and head for the exit.

Just as I reach for the door handle, Carlisle says, "By the way, I just saw James downstairs during ward rounds. He said that if I saw you, I was to pass on a message. He said he needed to have a word with you."

Instantly, my face feels cold as the blood drains to my feet. "Okay," I reply warily before walking out into the corridor. As I approach the desk in the transfer bay, to check the allocation book, a few of the other members of staff are giving me strange looks. "What?" I ask.

"Did we forget something, Eddo?" Mike says, looking amused.

Feeling fuzzy-headed from lack of sleep, I reach up and touch the back of my head. My theatre cap is still tied on, so that's not missing. I look down at my feet. My shoes are covered with blue, protective paper booties, so that's another win for me. I pat my chest and glance down. My I.D. badge is securely clipped to the front of my scrubs, and my pen is nestled in the pocket.

I shake my head and look up in confusion. "I dunno. What did I miss?"

Jessica giggles. "You're not supposed to be here today."

"I'm not? Does that mean I've been allocated to the Burns Unit theatre?"

The Burns Unit have their own fully functional, thermostatically-controlled operating room located within the ward, and it's staffed by their own team of doctors and scrub and scout nurses. Their nurses not only work in that particular theatre, but also on the ward. From the pool of general theatre staff, they only need an anaesthetist and an anaesthetics nurse to enable them to perform surgeries or complex dressing changes under twilight sedation or full anaesthetic. It's only after hours and on weekends that any emergency burn's cases are scheduled to be done in the general theatre suite.

"No, you idiot. You're not even rostered on today. You've got a P.D.O., remember?" Jessica says.

"I do?" I mustn't have looked at my roster properly.

"Yeah, unlike us, you worked four night shifts. That's 40 hours, so you get an extra day off this fortnight," Mike explains. "Come back tomorrow morning."

"Awesome," I say, and I turn and shuffle my way back to the change room, pleased that I can defer the inevitable showdown with James for one more day.

-oo0oo-

It's amazing what a good night's sleep can do. I have to confess though, that I had some help from a few friends; namely Jim Beam, Jack Daniels, Johnny Walker, and Jose Cuervo – or as my sister-in-law called them, The Four Horsemen. Turning up on my doorstep with dinner and alcohol was Rose's way of saying thanks for looking after Emmett while he was sick. She also appreciated coming home to a clean house and was quite surprised that she didn't have to do the housework as soon as she walked through the door on her return from Borneo. Emmett didn't drink, as his stomach was still feeling a bit dodgy, so Rose and I drank his shots. I wouldn't say that I was drunk, but I know I was close to the limit. At least I didn't wake up with a hangover.

As I approach the desk in the transfer bay, my head is on a swivel as I try to keep an eye out for James. Jessica is standing at the desk and she passes me the book when I hold out my hand.

"Where are you today?" I ask.

"Burns Theatre with Doctor Snow." She scrunches up her nose. "I really hate Burns."

"Fuck me sideways," I mutter when I see my own allocation and the operating schedule. I'm paired with Aro in theatre four – Orthopaedics – and the surgeons are Carlisle Cullen and James Doolan.

On turning the page, I see Shelly Cope is the coordinator for this morning, and I grin at Jessica as an idea forms in my mind. Reaching into my pocket for some change, I head to the vending machine and thank the heavens that it's stocked with Coke Zero. I then make my way to the administration office.

I knock on the door and Shelly looks up from her paperwork. "Good morning, Edward. What can I do for you?"

"I need a favour," I announce, placing the can of cola on the desk in front of her.

-oo0oo-

"Edward," the voice of James Doolan says from behind me as I reach for a pair of scrubs from the shelf.

In response, my whole body tenses._ This is it… I'm going to get my head punched in._

It's been nine days since I kissed Isabella Swan. For the past week, between working in the Burns Unit theatre, avoiding taking meal breaks in the staff room or the hospital café, and having last weekend off, I've managed to avoid running into Alice, Jasper, and Doctor Douchebag. Looks like my luck just ran out though.

"Hello," I say while trying to school my expression in an attempt to hide my fear. I have a feeling that I've most likely failed miserably when I turn to face him and see his smirking face.

"I've been looking for you," he says, picking up a pair of scrubs for himself. "In fact, it almost seems like you've been avoiding me."

"Huh, really?" I reply, now aiming to feign nonchalance as I clutch the scrubs to my chest and head for the change room. I cough a few times in an attempt to mask the quaver in my voice. "What would give you that idea?" As I push on the door, I inwardly bid farewell to my teeth and life as I once knew it.

"Just a hunch. That and the fact that I'm certain Nurse Cope is going to end up with an illness related to Aspartame poisoning. You know… that is, if you continue to ply her with cans of Coke Zero just so you can be allocated to the Burns Theatre."

In response, I don't say anything, worried that I may incriminate myself if I open my mouth.

James continues. "So, that leads me to believe one of two things; either you have a thing for one of the staff members in the Burns Unit, or you're purposely trying to avoid working in general theatre to reduce the chances of running into me. I know for a fact that Carlisle told you last Wednesday morning about my need to speak with you."

I drop my bag in front of my locker and sigh. "Okay… what did you want to talk to me about?"

"Isabella, my-" he starts to say, but he is interrupted by the sound of a loud alarm.

In an instant, we are both running out of the change room and we glance up at the LED panel that hangs from the ceiling. The word RECOVERY flashes in red. James and I both start running down the corridor towards the recovery bay where several people are standing around the edges of the room. In a matter of seconds, I take in the scene. It's not a code blue as I had initially thought, but a code black.

A tall, elderly man in a blue hospital gown is lashing out at the members of staff. He's managed to get off the recovery trolley, and it looks as though he's accidentally pulled out his IV line. Blood is dripping down his arm and splashing onto the floor. The bloodied, gauze dressing that is meant to be covering a wound below his right eye is also on the floor. Off to one side, Gianna, one of the recovery nurses is upset, and she's being comforted by Carmen. Gianna appears to have a red welt forming on her cheek.

"Mister Banner! Please, put the drip stand down!" Chelsea, another recovery nurse says while holding both hands up in a placating gesture.

In response, Mister Banner, who appears to be quite confused, just jabs the portable drip stand in her general direction like a trident. "KATIE!" he yells at the top of his lungs. "Where are you? Where are my clothes?" The drip stand falls from his grasp and he starts to stagger towards the sliding exit doors that lead out of the operating suite to the main corridor. As he weaves dangerously from side to side, his wrinkly old butt is peeking out the rear slit of the hospital gown.

"Edward, get the code black kit," James says to me in a quiet tone as he reaches up to grab a pair of latex gloves from the dispenser on the wall.

"Sure," I reply, and I make my way over to the emergency trolley. I open the drawer and pull out the lunchbox-like container that contains the sedating drugs that we use to deal with violent, out of control patients. As I pass Gianna and Carmen, I can hear Carmen speaking on the phone, alerting the emergency operator to our need for a restraint team.

With the kit in my hands, I return to James' side. As he dons a protective, disposable gown, he asks me to draw up some Haloperidol. I do so quickly, as James carefully approaches Mister Banner, who is pushing his palms against the doors. In his confusion, the old man is unable to correlate that the large green exit button on the side wall is his key to freedom.

"Mister Banner?" James says in a gentle tone.

The patient does not answer.

"You'll have to talk louder. He's quite deaf," Carmen says, leaving Gianna's side.

"MISTER BANNER?" he tries again. This time the patient turns to look at him with a wide-eyed stare. "HI. I'M JAMES, ONE OF THE DOCTORS. DO YOU KNOW WHERE YOU ARE?" he yells to be heard.

"How do I make this work?" Mister Banner asks, pointing to the doors.

"MISTER BANNER, YOU ARE IN THE HOSPITAL. YOU'VE BEEN INJURED AND RECENTLY HAD AN OPERATION TO REPAIR A NASTY CUT ON YOUR FACE. I NEED YOU TO COME BACK THIS WAY, PLEASE," James says, gently touching the patient's shoulder.

"No, I don't think so." Mister Banner shrugs off James' hand and tries to push his fingers in between the doors in a futile attempt to pry them apart.

In the meantime, Carmen manages to pass James a pair of goggles in order to protect his eyes from the blood that is still dripping freely from the patient's arm. He thanks her and puts them on.

"Who is Katie? Is she his wife or a relative?" I ask the recovery staff in a quiet voice, as I too start hastily donning protective wear should James need my help.

"I believe she's his daughter," Carmen replies.

"See if we've got her contact number in the case file and call her. If he hears her voice on the phone, it might calm him down."

"Excellent idea, Edward," James says without taking his eyes off Mister Banner.

Carmen picks up the case file just as six burly security guards approach from behind us. They are carrying various forms of restraints, from Posey vests to hard shackles.

Chelsea quickly apprises them of the situation, informing them that Mister Banner is an 86-year old gentleman who seems to be experiencing some delirium after an operation to repair a large skin tear under his eye. He has a history of Atrial Fibrillation and is on blood thinners. Mister Banner also suffers from dementia, which explains why he's gone right off his trolley – literally. Anaesthetics and the demented elderly can result in post-operative delirium, and, as a consequence, the patient can become confused, scared, and violent.

James acknowledges the arrival of the restraint team, but he holds up a hand, indicating that he doesn't want them charging in and taking over just yet.

"MISTER BANNER. LOOK AT YOUR ARM. YOU'RE BLEEDING ALL OVER THE PLACE. JUST COME BACK THIS WAY TO THE BED SO I CAN TAKE A QUICK LOOK AT YOU AND STOP THE BLOOD FLOW."

Mister Banner looks down at his arm and on seeing the blood he looks astonished. "Where did that come from?" He staggers to one side, and James has to grip the patient's upper arm tightly to stop him from falling over.

I immediately jump in and take hold of Mister Banner's other arm, to prevent both men from accidentally slipping in the blood and getting injured.

"And who are you?" the old man asks, looking at me in confusion.

"MY NAME IS EDWARD," I say giving him a reassuring smile. "I'M ONE OF THE NURSES. LET'S GO THAT WAY, OVER TO THE BED. WE'D LIKE TO TAKE CARE OF THIS BLEEDING ARM OF YOURS. KATIE ESPECIALLY ASKED FOR ME AND JAMES TO LOOK AFTER YOU."

"She did?" Mister Banner asks.

I nod. "YES. SHE'S VERY WORRIED ABOUT YOU. CAN YOU PLEASE COME WITH US?"

Although still appearing unconvinced, Mister Banner allows me and James to lead him back to the recovery trolley.

"Thanks for your help, Edward," James says once we settle Mister Banner on the bed.

I pull up the protective side rails while James takes some squares of cotton gauze from Chelsea's hand and then holds them firmly over the bleeding IV puncture site. For good measure, he elevates the patient's arm.

"Do you still want this Haloperidol?" I ask, pulling the syringe out of my pocket.

James appears to consider the situation carefully and then shakes his head. "Let's hold off for just a minute. He seems to be cooperating right now. No need to bomb him out if he continues to behave."

In the background, I can hear Carmen talking on the phone to his daughter, informing her of the situation. After a moment, she squeezes in beside me to speak with Mister Banner. "IT'S KATIE. SHE WANTS TO HAVE A WORD WITH YOU." In a quieter tone, she speaks into the phone. "You'll have to talk in a loud voice, Katie. He doesn't seem to have his hearing aids with him." She chuckles at something the daughter says before saying, "I'll put him on the phone now." She holds the phone up to Mister Banner's ear.

"Katie?"

With the situation seemingly under control, I step back and make my way over to the nearest rubbish bin. After discarding my protective wear, I wash my hands and head back to the change room to put on my scrubs, leaving behind my unfinished business with James.

Properly attired, I head to the transfer bay, and on seeing the allocation book, I note that I'm working with Doctor John Gerandy in theatre six. This is the theatre where most of the Plastic Surgery cases are performed, and when I look at the operating list, I see that Doctors Caius Downer and Esme Platt are the surgeons. There's no need for me to see Shelly in order to ask for a reallocation. I don't have the option of working in Burns Theatre today as they don't usually operate on Wednesdays.

I go to theatre six to find Doctor Gerandy. I apologise and then explain my initial absence before going to get the medications he requires from the Drug of Dependence cupboard.

-oo0oo-

With the morning's Plastic Surgery list over, I make my way back to the change room to fetch my wallet. Just as I turn from my locker, I'm startled when I turn to see James Doolan standing there with his arms folded over his chest.

"Jesus!" I gasp. "Don't sneak up on a person like that. You nearly gave me a friggin' heart attack."

"Sorry. Next time, do you want me to wear a bell around my neck?" he jokes.

I scowl. "Depends. Are you planning on sneaking up on me like a creepy stalker again?"

He snickers as I make my way towards the door. "Going to lunch, Edward?"

"Yep," I reply tersely. Unbelievably, he follows me out into the corridor. "What are you doing?" I ask when it becomes apparent that he intends to shadow me to wherever I'm heading.

"I told you this morning; I'd like to speak with you. So, now that we're both on our lunch break…"

Gritting my teeth in annoyance, I keep walking towards the exit. We say nothing to each other as we take the single flight of stairs up to level five and enter the Revive Café. After paying for my chicken salad wrap and carton of iced coffee, I head outside to the balcony area with its limited views of the Adelaide Botanical Gardens.

I head for a seat at the very end to make use of the shade and place my purchases on the table. Without waiting for James, I take a large bite of my lunch. After a few minutes, having devoured nearly half of the wrap, James steps outside, and he walks towards me. Taking the seat on the opposite side of the table, he sets his cup of coffee down in front of him.

I stare at the cup. "Is that all you're having?" I ask.

He nods. "With all of the rich food Bella's been cooking, I need to keep an eye on my waistline. We're having Beef Stroganoff and cheesy potato bake for dinner tonight."

I raise an eyebrow. "It must be nice, after a long day at work, to be greeted by a home-cooked meal and a beautiful woman." I try to keep the bitterness out of my voice, but fail.

"Yes, I'm a very lucky man that I get to have both. Now, speaking of Bella…"

"Look…" I say interrupting him. "I just want to say I'm sorry for what happened at Adelaide Oval the other night. I didn't intentionally set out to try and molest Isabella or anything. It's just that with you ignoring her during the kiss-cam, and the crowd booing, I felt sorry for her, so without thinking, I removed her from the situation. When we got to the elevator, she asked to kiss me, and I have no idea why she wanted to kiss me, but she did, and she was so beautiful and persistent, and I took advantage-"

"Edward-"

"And I kissed her. I mean, I only meant it to be a quick peck – which, by the way, is something that _you_ should have done which would have avoided the whole debacle – but we kissed and it was incredible and-"

"Edward-"

"And now I feel like shit because I know you'll want to punch my head in-"

"Edward, stop!" James says, and I do as he asks, bracing for the tirade that is coming my way. Strangely, he starts to chuckle.

"What?" I ask.

He shakes his head in amusement. "Firstly, I have no intention of punching your head in. And secondly, I wasn't 100% certain it was you in that mascot costume the other night, but now that you've confirmed it, it makes some sense."

"It does?"

"Yeah. The night we were operating on young Jacob Black, I remember you talking about that dancing thing you do – Northern Soul?" I nod, but I'm confused. He continues, "Well Bella told me that the man in the Adelaide Strikers' mascot costume was an excellent Northern Soul dancer. She said she was coming back from the toilets when she saw the mascot dancing and decided to join in. Even when she told me, I briefly wondered if you might actually know the person. But then after the match, she said that the mascot seemed to know me because he said something about me cutting him up with a bone saw. I mean, what are the odds?" He snorts in humour. "Anyway-"

I shake my head in bewilderment. "I'm sorry, but I just confessed to kissing Isabella, and you're acting as if it's no big deal. Is this something she regularly does? Propositioning random men?"

He looks taken aback. "I honestly have no idea, but-"

"Well, maybe if you paid better attention to your girlfriend, she wouldn't be going off and looking for affection from other men," I say accusingly.

"Girlfriend?" he says as if it's a question. "Bella's not my girlfriend; I'm married."

_Oh Fuuuuuuuck! It's even worse than I imagined_. But then a sudden thought comes to mind which makes no sense. "Huh?"

"I'm married," James says, "to Bella's mother. Bella is my step-daughter."

Silence hangs in the air between us as I mentally digest what he said. I briefly wonder if I've just had some sort of absence seizure and missed a whole section of the dialogue before he said the word 'step-daughter'.

"Step-daughter?" I ask. He nods. "But…"

"I know what you're thinking," he says. "Renee – my wife of three years – is a little older than me, and she had Bella when she was 15."

"How old is Bella?" I ask.

"She's 25; only seven years younger than me."

A quick mental calculation on my part tells me that James is 32 and is, therefore, eight years younger than his wife.

"I had no idea you were married," I say.

"Well, we don't exactly run in the same social circles, now do we?"

"I suppose not." I look at James' left hand. "You don't wear a wedding ring?"

"I do, but not at work. Infection control and all that…" He takes a sip of his coffee and swallows. "Plus, I'm always worried I'll accidentally lose it when I have to operate. I've already lost my phone twice from leaving it in my pocket and then tossing my scrub pants into the linen disposal bags."

"But you came second in The Golden Speculum Award-" I add, and in that instant, a menacing look steals over James' face.

"I would ask that you refrain from perpetuating that vicious lie. The person that started that rumour is a gutless piece of shit who is jealous of my position in the Orthopaedics Department."

"I'm sorry," I say quickly. "I didn't know it wasn't true. You know who started the rumour then?"

James nods. "Seth Clearwater. He seems to think that because I'm married to Renee – who, by the way, is Carlisle's sister – that it's the only reason I was given the Fellowship position this year. He even went so far as to lodge a protest with the head of the department, claiming I only got the position due to nepotism. What Seth didn't know, was that Carlisle wasn't even on the panel the day I had my interview. When his complaint fell on deaf ears, he decided to cause trouble by claiming that I had an affair with Victoria Rhodes."

A memory of Doctor Rhodes comes to mind. She was a tall, leggy redhead and was one of the Orthopaedic Consultants at The RAH. Up until she decided to leave in November of last year, to work with MSF, she was the Consultant that James worked under.

James continues, "When Seth found out that Victoria had taken Carlisle's place on the interview panel, he then accused me of sleeping with her. Of course, Victoria had already left the country by then, and it took some time for the person investigating the allegation to track her down so that she could refute the lie. In the meantime, the gossip started to spread, and then some idiot thought it would be funny to put our names in for The Golden Speculum Award."

"That's terrible. No wonder you always look as if you're pissed off at something."

He nods. "Yeah. It's been a rough few months, and I'm afraid with all of the stress at work, coupled with Renee's condition, I haven't been the most pleasant person to be around."

"Condition? Is your wife okay?" I ask with concern. "If you don't mind me asking, that is..."

He hesitates before speaking and he looks sort of lost and sad. "For two years, we've been trying to have a baby through IVF. Renee's had multiple procedures and we've lost two pregnancies. This time, we're doing everything we can to make sure the pregnancy sticks. Bella even offered to help, and she transferred her job from Sydney to Adelaide. She's staying with us to support her mother until the baby arrives."

"So she's pregnant now?"

He smiles and nods. "Yeah. She's 12 weeks along and this is the furthest we've gotten with a pregnancy so far."

I smile, pleased to hear that piece of good news, even though I don't know Renee, and hardly know the man sitting before me. Taking another bite of my lunch, I then begin to wonder why James wanted to speak with me in the first place.

As if reading my mind, James says, "So, you're probably wondering why I wanted to speak to you. That is, now that you know I had no intention of punching your head in for kissing Bella." He smirks in amusement.

"Yeah."

"I was going to ask if you'd like to accompany me, Carlisle, and Bella this Saturday night to watch the T20 semi-final. Depending on who wins tomorrow night at the SCG, the Strikers will either play The Sydney Sixers or Sydney Thunder. Since the last match at Adelaide Oval was abandoned, the tickets can be transferred to the next game."

"What about Jasper and Alice?"

"Jasper is away at a conference and Alice is working that evening."

"Oh. Okay. Yeah, I'd love to join you. I'm working Saturday morning, but I'll be finished by 3pm."

"Yeah, I know. I checked the roster to see if you were available. I just need to ask one thing though."

"What's that?" I ask.

"Are you dating anyone seriously? It's just that after you had mentioned Northern Soul dancing the night we were working in emergency theatre, I thought you and Bella might have something in common. She was heavily into the scene in Sydney, and since moving to Adelaide, she hasn't met anyone who shares the same interests. You mentioned dating a girl who works in the ICU."

"Ah, yes. That would be Tanya, and no, I'm not dating her. We had plans to go to The German Club, but they fell through which is one of the reasons I ended up working as a mascot the night I kissed Isabella. I gave Tanya my number, but she never bothered to call me back. To be honest, after meeting your step-daughter, Tanya hadn't even crossed my mind until you mentioned it just now."

James chuckles. "You'd better not call her Isabella when you meet her. She hates it. Call her Bella."

"Right. Bella it is."

"You know, she's going to be over the moon when she realises I've actually managed to track down her mystery Soul Boy."

"Really?" I smile.

"Oh God, you have no idea. She's been rhapsodising over you for days. Bella's watched the YouTube videos of the both of you dancing, and then you carrying her away from her seat during the kiss-cam segment, over and over and over again. And I swear, if I have to listen to that '_Love Me Again_' song, I may have to exercise my parental rights and confiscate her internet access and smart phone."

I laugh. "So why didn't you just give her a kiss on the cheek during the kiss-cam segment? I mean, that wouldn't have been too weird."

"I was busy negotiating with the bed-flow coordinator to try to move Jacob Black to somewhere in the hospital where he could be closely monitored. He needed ventilation support, and ICU, Step-Down, and Recovery were all full. There was also a staff shortage, so it was difficult to find a solution."

"What happened to Jacob?" I ask in concern.

"He developed pneumonia. He'd been lying on the floor for almost a day after the fall that broke his neck of femur. Then his case got bumped on Saturday and was rescheduled. As you know, we didn't manage to operate until late Sunday evening. Due to his condition and prolonged bed rest, he was a sitting duck for pneumonia and atelectasis."

"Is he okay, now?"

James nods. "He's getting better. I managed to get him transferred to the thoracics ward where he was put on BiPAP and was looked after by a nurse who sat between him and another patient who was also on BiPAP. Once he'd been on the IV antibiotics for 48 hours, his gases started improving. By Thursday morning, we were able to cease the BiPAP and transfer him back to the orthopaedic ward."

I pull my phone out of my pocket and note the time. "I should go back," I announce, gathering my rubbish.

"Me too. I need to head to my afternoon rounds." James gulps down the last of his coffee and stands. "I saw that you're working in theatre six today."

"Yeah."

"Say hi to my sister-in-law for me."

It takes me a moment to realise he's talking about Doctor Platt. "Sure."

We leave the café and enter the stairwell. With the door handle in my grasp, as I prepare to exit at level four, James asks, "Are you doing anything tonight, Edward?"

I briefly think about the pile of ironing I was going to tackle while watching tonight's T20 match. The Melbourne Stars are playing The Perth Scorchers at the MCG. "Nothing particularly important. Why?"

"Would you like to come over for dinner tonight? It would be nice to formally introduce you to Bella before we go to the cricket on Saturday night."

I'm taken aback by the offer, but also pleased. "Yeah. That'd be great."

James pulls his phone out of his pocket. "Give me your number, and I'll text you the address and time, once I've asked Bella if we've got room for one more mouth at the dinner table." I tell him my number, and with a smile, he says, "See ya, Edward," before continuing down the stairwell towards level three.

-oo0oo-

An hour later, my phone chimes with a text message. Then a few minutes later, my phone chimes again. Once the theatre case is over, I glance at the messages. The first one is from James, confirming that I'm to arrive at his house at around 7pm. The address is in a suburb called Woodforde. Not familiar with that name, I Google it and find that it borders the Morialta Conservation Park, in the eastern Adelaide foothills.

The second message is also from James, asking for a favour and to call him to confirm if it's possible.

"I hope I don't end up regretting this," I mutter to myself as I dial the number to make the call.

-oo0oo-

Standing on the driveway of James' house, I can't believe I'm doing the one thing I told myself I would never do again.

It had taken Marcus Lorenzin some convincing – and a $1000 return deposit – so that I could borrow the mascot costume for a few hours. I have strict orders to return Smash by midnight. This is to ensure that he can be dry cleaned and ready in time for Saturday's match at Adelaide Oval.

I extract the large headpiece of Smash's costume from the back seat. Once it's in place on my head, I grab the bouquet of mixed flowers and the bottle of red wine before closing the car door. For now, I'm not even going to bother locking my car, as there is no way I can hit the key fob buttons accurately with the padded gloves on. I'll just wait until I'm out of the costume, once I've made the grand entrance that James talked me in to.

_This better be worth all the trouble_, I muse as I approach the front door.

With difficulty, I hit the button for the doorbell. After less than a minute, the inner wooden door opens to reveal a woman standing behind the screen door. She's wearing a summer dress in shades of pale green and blue, and while her hair is lighter and much shorter, she appears to be an older version of Bella in every other feature. This must be Renee Doolan – Bella's mum.

On seeing me, Renee bursts into fits of laughter. "Isabella!" she calls out between giggles. "There's someone at the door for you…"

* * *

_**A/N - Thanks to those of you who fave, follow, and review. Special thanks to Tarbecca who pimped this story out on A Different Forest which resulted in some of you seeking out 'It's Just Not Cricket'.**_

_**BoB xxx**_

* * *

_**P.D.O - Paid Day Off - In addition to regular days off, full-time staff usually get one PDO a month. However, if they work four 10-hour night shifts, they get an extra PDO.  
**_

**_MSF - Médecins Sans Frontières - AKA - Doctors Without Borders.  
_**

_**SCG - Sydney Cricket Ground.**_

_**MCG - Melbourne Cricket Ground.**_

_**BiPAP - Bilevel Positive Airway Pressure - a form of non-invasive ventilation for the critically ill patient.**_


	6. Chapter 6

"Who is it?" a muffled female voice calls out from somewhere inside the house.

"Come to the door and see," Renee insists, turning her body slightly and tilting her head back to direct her voice up a flight of stairs. From my position on the porch, the last few steps are just visible to the left of where she stands.

"Be down in a minute," the voice replies.

Between giggles, Renee says, "My husband mentioned he was going to get Isabella a surprise for her birthday, but I had no idea he'd do something this outrageous."

_Birthday?_

She flicks the internal latch and pushes on the screen. Rather than stepping aside, to allow me to enter, Renee raises her hand up to adjust the closing mechanism so that the door stays wide open. I'm left feeling somewhat baffled when James' wife just stands there, blocking the way into the house. With her arms folded, she proceeds to look me up and down.

_Is this the part where Bella's mum asks what my intentions are pertaining to her daughter?_

"So, where is your portable stereo? Or is this one of those singing telegrams?" she asks.

_What the-?_

"I'm sorry-" I start to say, but before any more words can leave my mouth, a woman, who looks to be in her 70s, appears behind Renee and interrupts me.

"So who is it?" the newcomer asks, looking at me with curiosity.

"Your grandson sent you a singing telegram," Renee explains, moving to the side so that the older woman can step out onto the porch.

"Uh- I'm afraid-" I stammer, but again, I am interrupted by the elderly lady.

"Oh, goodie, what fun," she says, giving her palms a clap and then bringing her clasped hands to her bosom. Both women then look at me in expectation.

"Ladies, I think there's been a bit of a mix-up," I say, starting to feel panicky.

_Maybe this isn't Renee Doolan, and I got the wrong house. Or maybe I'm being punked and there's a hidden camera around here somewhere_.

Just then, I hear the sound of a vehicle pulling up in the driveway. I turn my body and see that a shiny, black BMW is now parked next to my piece of shit car. The door opens, and James steps out.

"Ah! You're here," he says, his smile beaming as he quickly heads around to the car's passenger side door. "I'm glad to see you found the house all right." He opens the car door and pulls out a cardboard box. After locking the car, he approaches the front porch. "I see you've met Renee, my wife, and my grandmother, Isabella Doolan."

_Two Isabellas?_

Simultaneously, Renee and I start to speak.

"You're just in time to hear the singing telegram that you organised for Isabella's birthday," Renee says.

"James, why do they think I'm a singing telegram?" I ask over the top of Renee's voice.

He looks at me and then at Renee. "Honey, this isn't a singing telegram, this is Edward Masen. I work with him at the hospital. He's the person I invited to dinner so that I can properly introduce him to Bella," James says with a soft chuckle.

"Why's he dressed up like a giant Smurf then?" his grandmother asks.

At this question, he bursts into laughter. "He's not a Smurf, Granny. He's Smash, The Adelaide Strikers mascot, you know, for the cricket?"

"Do you mean to say that this is the dancing guy that Bella's been raving about for the last week and a half?" Renee asks, now looking at me with a broad smile.

"Yeah. It turns out he was moonlighting as the mascot on the night the match got rained out."

"Oh my God!" I hear a breathless voice say just outside of my limited peripheral vision. I turn, and standing there on the lawn is Bella. She pulls a pair of earbuds out of her ears as she advances towards us and then steps up onto the porch. "Just my friggin' luck. You're here, and I look like crap!" she pants, out of breath. "This better be a nightmare, or else my life is seriously sucking right now."

_Is she insane? _Even sweaty and dishevelled, she looks perfect to me – like she's just had really good marathon sex.

"Where's your car, Bella?" Renee asks in confusion while looking her daughter's sweaty body up and down.

On her shapely legs, Bella is wearing a pair of black, three-quarter length yoga pants. She's sporting white running shoes with anklet socks, and a black T-shirt with a vintage red and gold Superman logo stretched across the chest. The tight fit of her clothing leaves little to the imagination. I mentally will my dick to calm the fuck down and stop fantasising about her turning around and bending over to touch her toes.

"It conked out at the bottom of the hill," she replies, thrusting what looks to be a packet of birthday candles into her mother's hand. "Oh… and by the way Jamie, thanks for taking the time to pull over and pick me up. You drove straight past when I was halfway up the hill." Her gaze is stern as she looks at her step-father.

"I'm sorry, sweetie," he says. "I mustn't have seen you. I was probably trying to stop this little guy from getting out while I was driving." He glances down at the box in his arms and then holds it out towards Isabella Doolan.

As if on cue, a faint mewling sound can be heard coming from inside the box which I notice has air holes around the top. James' grandmother lifts the lid, gasps, and then reaches into the box, pulling out a small, grey kitten.

"Oh, Jamie! He's adorable. Is this a purebred British Shorthair?" she asks, holding the fluffy ball of fur possessively to her chest. Both Renee and Bella make cooing sounds of adoration when they see the tiny animal. "He looks so much like my dear Smokey used to when he was a kitten, don't you think?"

James nods and then reaches out to tickle the kitten's neck. In response, the little furball closes its eyes appreciatively and tilts its head to the side. "I know how much you've missed Smokey since he died, so I thought you'd like a new companion to spoil rotten. Happy birthday, Granny."

The old woman sighs in contentment. "You shouldn't have spent so much money on me, but thank you, darling boy."

"Well, you only turn 80 once," James replies before giving her a kiss on the cheek.

Just then, through the layers of foam padding, I feel something touch my arm. I turn my head to see Bella as she tugs on the sleeve of my costume. Understanding what she wants, I allow her to lead me away from the porch. After a few paces, we stop to stand next to my car and face one another.

"I can't believe you're our additional dinner guest," she says with a smile while also looking at me in awe, or maybe wonder. "Hi, I'm Bella Swan."

"I know. The other night when we met… you were right. I actually did- well, I mean, I do know James. We work at the same hospital," I confess. "I'm Edward Masen. We spoke on the phone once when James was operating."

She snorts in amusement. "Well that explains it. I could have sworn your voice sounded a little familiar the other night. So, why did you run away from me after we kissed?"

"It's a long story full of misunderstandings," I reply, "and, to be honest, I'd rather tell it to you once I get out of this costume. I feel ridiculous, and it's pretty hot in here. And not to sound too gross, I'm starting to sweat like a damn racehorse."

"Join the club," she says, indicating to her T-shirt, which has patches of sweat beneath the armpits, and a wet V-shaped mark that points directly down between the centre of her breasts. "I just ran up a bloody hill to get here, and I look like I just stepped out of a sauna. Summer nights in Adelaide, hey…" Bella laughs, and I join her. "May I?" she asks, and instantly, I know she wants to be the one to remove the headpiece, just like she did the other night.

"Yes, please."

With care, Bella reaches her hand inside Smash's headpiece. Before undoing the chinstrap, she runs her fingers sensually along my jawline, eliciting a shiver of desire from within me. Once the chinstrap is unfastened, she lifts the headpiece off, and although I still have the Zorro-like mask covering the top half of my face, I finally feel like I can breathe and see again.

"And now for the final unveiling," she says, gently placing the headpiece on the bonnet of my car. Bella moves in close and stands before me. Reaching her hands up, as if she is going to hug me around the neck, she proceeds to untie the mask at the back of my head. Pulling the material away from my face, she gazes up at me and smiles. "Wow," she says.

"What?"

"You're even better looking than I imagined, Soul Boy."

I smile at the compliment and the nickname she seems to have bestowed upon me.

"And now I can't wait to see what's underneath the rest of this costume," she says with a suggestive wink.

"In that case, you'd best hold these for me," I advise, extending the bouquet of flowers and bottle of wine out to her."

"For me?" she asks, taking them from my hands.

I nod as I begin to unfasten the Velcro tabs that attach the padded gloves to the sleeves of the costume.

"These flowers are beautiful," she says, lifting them to her nose to inhale the scent. "I love them."

"I just wish James had warned me it was his grandmother's birthday. I'd have bought her some flowers as well."

"Aww. That's okay. I'm sure she's not worried about you turning up without a present since you don't really know her."

"Still, according to my mum, it's good manners to acknowledge the birthday girl."

Bella giggles.

Once I've taken all of the costume pieces off and stowed them in the back of the car, Bella and I head inside the house. After checking on the mouth-watering food in the oven, Bella leads me out to the back patio. We open the bottle of wine, and for the next half hour before dinner, we get to know one another a little more.

-oo0oo-

"Thanks for dinner and a wonderful evening," I say to both James and Renee.

"No worries," Renee replies, giving me a goodbye kiss on the cheek. "It was lovely meeting you, Edward."

"You too," I reply.

"Are you sure you're okay to drive my grandmother home?" Jamie asks. "We don't want to put you out."

"I don't mind at all. I'm heading towards that side of town anyway as I have to drop the costume off to Marcus' house. He lives in Prospect."

"Thanks, Eddo," he says, reaching out and shaking my hand. "I guess I'll see you at work tomorrow."

"Only if I'm not allocated to Burns Theatre," I joke, and they both laugh. At dinner, I had regaled them all with the story of how I was avoiding Jamie because I thought Bella was his girlfriend. "See ya then," I say, turning and making my way towards my car as Jamie and Renee head back inside the house.

Bella is helping Granny Isabella into the front seat of my car. Once she is buckled in, I pass her the cardboard box with the kitten inside and then gently close the door.

"So, I'll see you Saturday night?" Bella asks, sounding hopeful.

"Definitely," I reply. "Um…" In this moment, I feel kind of awkward. I don't know if I should kiss her on the lips or cheek. I know we've kissed before, but that was under somewhat strange circumstances. Standing here without the protection of the mask and costume, I almost feel naked and vulnerable.

"Kiss me goodnight?" Bella asks in a somewhat shaky voice.

My heart flips inside my chest at her request. Knowing that there's nothing to hold me back now, I gently cup her jaw and bring my lips to hers.

Similar to what happened the last time we kissed, an overwhelming feeling shakes me to the very core of my bone marrow. It's as if I've suddenly arrived at an understanding that this woman before me is the reason why I was even born. Losing all sense of time and place, I deepen the kiss, eliciting a sexy gasp from Bella's throat. She steps in closer so that the lengths of our bodies are touching for the first time. The sensation draws a moan from deep within my own chest, and I turn us around so that her back is leaning on the side of my car. Gradually, I increase the pressure of my body against hers, wanting to intensify our connection.

BEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEP.

At the sound of my car horn blaring, Bella and I spring apart like a pair of teenagers caught saying a long goodnight by their parents.

"Granny!" Bella protests. She bends down to glare at the old woman sitting in the front passenger seat.

Granny Isabella winds down the car window. "Thanks for the live sex show, but me and my cat would like to go home now," she says with an evil laugh.

"You're the epitome of a crazy old cat lady, you know that?" Bella retaliates in jest, shaking her head.

"Goodnight, Bella," I say, giving her another quick kiss on the lips before making my way around to the other side of the car.

"Goodnight, Soul Boy," she replies, blowing me a kiss and then waving. "See you Saturday night."

"Can't wait."

"Me either." I get into my car and close the door. Once I see Bella open the front door of the house, I start the engine and head towards my first stop, the Wisteria Grove Retirement Village.

As we get to the bottom of the hill, a thought comes to mind when I hear the kitten mewling from inside the box. "Have you got kitten food at your place?" I ask.

"Oh. That's a very good question," Granny Isabella says. "I'm pretty sure I've got some tins of cat food left over from when Smokey was alive, but not kitten food."

"Want me to stop in at a servo on the way home?"

"Yes, please."

To keep the conversation going, I ask, "Have you come up with a name for him yet?"

Throughout dinner, we kept throwing out names for the little furball. Dust-bunny, Penicillin, and Fungus were some of the sillier offerings made by me and Jamie due to the kitten's bluish-grey colouring.

"I think I'm going to go with what young Bella suggested as she was helping me to get in the car."

"What was that?"

"Since he's all blue, like that mascot costume on the back seat, I'm going to call him Smash."

-oo0oo-

**New Years Eve 2015**

"_All sorted?_" Jamie mouths as he sees me approach my seat at the end of the front row. I nod in confirmation and he grins widely.

"Here ya go," I say to Bella, my girlfriend of nearly a year, as I pass her the drink of lemon squash she had requested.

Without taking her eyes from the field, she takes the cup from my hand. "Thanks. What took you so long? It's The Strikers' last over and you nearly missed it."

"There was a long line," I reply, covering up the fact that I paid Marcus Lorenzin a quick visit in his office. I take my seat and pass Jamie the cup of Fanta. He turns and hands it to Renee.

Tonight is the first time in quite a while that Bella's mum and step-father have gone out together for a husband and wife date. With Marcus' help, I had purchased four front row seats to the New Year's Eve game, and I'd given Renee and Jamie their tickets as a Christmas gift. With Esme working as the on-call Plastics Registrar tonight, it's been left up to Uncle Carlisle to look after Renee and Jamie's 5-month-old son, Samuel Doolan, or as I like to call him – Sammy Dribbler.

The crowd starts clapping a beat that sounds a lot like Queen's '_We Will Rock You_'. Stephen O'Keefe from The Sydney Sixers performs the short run up and bowls, propelling the ball towards the wicket. Ryan ten Doeschate, the English-South African import, advances down the pitch and slogs the ball for a massive six. The ball flies so high and long that it lands in the second tier of the Chappell Stand.

The Strikeforce goes ballistic, and Bella pouts adorably. Here amongst the sea of Adelaide fans, who are all decked out in blue, her hot-pink and black Sydney Sixers T-shirt stands out like dog's balls.

"Did ya see that, Bella?" Jamie gloats, poking her playfully in the side of her ribs, almost causing her to spill her drink as she squirms away involuntarily.

In response, Bella smacks his arm. "If Binga was still playing, that wouldn't have happened," she says, still lamenting the fact that her hero, Brett 'Binga' Lee, the internationally-famous fast bowler, retired back in January. In that finals match, The Sixers were narrowly defeated by The Perth Scorchers.

Although Bella's been living in Adelaide for almost a year, she's still a Sydney girl at heart. The fact that New South Wales has two teams in the T20 competition, Sydney Thunder and Sydney Sixers, means that she barracks for them both, even when they play against each other.

The Strikers' last over continues and Ryan ten Doeschate manages to hit the next ball for a four, but then he is run out in dramatic circumstances by Sean Abbott while trying for a quick single. Loud music plays as Kane Richardson, the next batsman for The Strikers, runs onto the field. Alex Ross manages a single run to increase his score to 41, leaving the new batsman to face the bowler. During the remaining three balls of the inning, Richardson adds two runs, meaning The Sixers will require an overall score of 190 to win.

The crowd is jubilant as the players leave the oval. Props for the half-time entertainment are transported to various points on the field by six vehicles. A team of people begin to set up what I assume to be ramps for the motorcycle acrobatics and pyrotechnics display. While the ramps are being installed, Gabriella Cilmi's _'Don't Want To Go To Bed Now_' plays over the speakers. When the chorus starts, the words 'KISS CAM' begin to flash in hot pink letters on the stadium's video screens. Couples appear on the screens, and once again, it's the bucketheads on The Hill who are in charge of scoring kissing prowess.

I sit back and wait, all the while attempting to hide the smirk on my face. Thanks to my talk with Marcus, I already know that two people, in particular, will be subjected to the kiss-cam during the next song. This time, however, Bella, along with Jamie, have it all planned out. Earlier today, they had decided that should there be a kiss-cam segment, they would be ready and waiting with paper signs. Only Jamie knows that this is happening for sure. My heart suddenly skips a beat as the enormity of what is going to occur afterwards begins to overwhelm me.

The lyrics of John Newman's '_Love Me Again_' start to play and Bella looks to me and grins widely. I'm fairly certain she's recalling, just like I am, that this is the very first song we ever danced to. As the chorus begins, a cameraman moves to stand directly in front of us and my anxiety spikes.

Jamie and Isabella's faces appear on the jumbo screen. They look at one another and grin, but don't kiss. In response, the bucketheads start booing. Bella raises a questioning eyebrow, but Jamie merely rolls his eyes and folds his arms in front of his chest, seemingly in defiance of the bucketheads. The booing gets louder and Bella just laughs. The image on the screen changes to another couple, but soon after, the camera is back on Bella and Jamie.

This time, Jamie reaches inside his back pocket and he pulls out a folded piece of A4 paper. Once he has unfolded the sign, he holds it up in front of his chest. Printed there in a bold, black capitalized font, are the words –

SHE'S MY STEP-DAUGHTER AND SHE HAS A BOYFRIEND!

Underneath, there is an arrow pointing to his left, the side where Bella and I are seated. The booing stops as laughter erupts around the pavilion. When Jamie turns the paper over, it reads – MY HOT WIFE! – with an arrow pointing to Renee on his right.

The camera moves to put Jamie and Renee in the frame. They turn their faces towards one another and then they kiss on the lips. Simultaneously, their hands reach up to embrace one another, and their kiss deepens. It's safe to say that their lip-lock rivals the one that Alice planted on Jasper back in January.

When their kiss ends, Jamie is left looking flushed and out of breath; his hair is utterly dishevelled and his lips are smeared with bright red lipstick. The bucketheads all roar their approval and turn their 6 cards upside-down. Bella is laughing hysterically, but then the camera pans across to the two of us.

With a wicked gleam in her eye, she picks up her own sign. In bold, black letters are the words – HOT BOYFRIEND! – with an arrow pointing to me. Before she can lean in to kiss me, however, I shake my head. This comes as a surprise to her. An expression of worry and uncertainty passes over Bella's features. Her concern, however, is quickly replaced by amusement.

In that precise moment, I know that Smash and Syd Sixer, the team mascots, are both walking up behind me. Smash taps me on the shoulder, and I turn my head to the left to acknowledge him in faux-surprise. He makes some wild gesticulations, indicating that I should kiss my girl. I shake my head, and the bucketheads start making noises of disapproval on The Hill.

Syd Sixer then steps in, gently nudging Smash aside. Outraged by my refusal to kiss Bella, he then turns and smacks me on the side of my head, knocking my Strikers cap off and causing it to fall to the ground. In response, I stand abruptly and push him right in the middle of his stupid, grinning face, causing him to stagger back a few paces. He starts to advance with his fists held up in a boxing stance, but I hold up a finger in warning. I then turn and make a move to bend down to pick my cap up from the ground. Rather than take my seat, I stay down on bended-knee and pull an engagement ring from my back pocket.

"Will you marry me?" I ask Bella, amid 53,000 live witnesses.

Bella gasps in shock and her hand flies up to cover her mouth.

My heart hammers so hard in my chest that it actually hurts in the moments before she nods.

"You will?" I ask just to be doubly sure that I didn't imagine her silently saying yes.

She nods again; this time with even more emphasis. Tears start rolling down her cheeks, and I reach up to cup her face in my palms. We kiss, and the world around us fades away in the way it always does when our lips meet. Once we break our kiss, I place the ring on her finger, hoping with everything inside of me that it fits.

"Oh my God, it's beautiful," Bella gasps out while staring down at the ring.

I mentally congratulate myself because it looks like the ring fits perfectly. Two months ago, I had managed to measure her finger with various sized tubes of paper while she slept.

Bella jumps with a start when the fireworks display begins, heralding the arrival of the motorcycle stuntmen as they speed into view towards the ramps. I take my seat next to her once again, but we ignore the spectacle on the field while holding hands and staring intently into each others eyes. I'm grinning so much, that my cheeks are hurting. In my whole life, I know I've never been as happy as I am in this moment.

"Hey, check it out!" Jamie says, interrupting our private bubble and forcing us to turn our gazes away from each other. He's pointing to The Hill.

We both turn in our seats to see what he's talking about. When I see it, I burst out laughing.

The bucketheads have paired off and arranged their cards, each giving us scores of 69.

Bella leans into me. "That comes later tonight, when we go home," she whispers into my ear so that only I can hear her.

A surge of desire floods my entire being, and I mentally curse her for doing this to me right here and now, when I can't do anything about it. Deciding she needs to pay for that saucy comment, I move my own lips next to her ear. I whisper, "This face is leaving in five minutes…"

In response, she sneakily pinches my butt and bursts out laughing.

-oo0oo-

The game ends and Bella is ecstatic. The Sixers defeated The Strikers by surpassing their score in the 19th over. I couldn't care less. My Bella is happy and right now that's all that matters. Hand in hand we pass through the stadium gates to the outside.

"Where's Mum and Jamie?" Bella asks, having to yell loudly to be heard.

"I thought they were behind us."

I look around over the heads of the thousands of people around us and eventually find them talking to someone off to one side. It appears they are speaking with Doctor Victoria Rhodes who happens to be here with her fiancé, Laurent Bernard. They met while working together with MSF. Renee and Jamie had had them over to their house for a barbeque when Victoria had returned from eastern Ukraine. I pull Bella along behind me and head towards their little group.

"We thought we'd lost you," I say to Jamie when he sees us approach.

He grins. "We were just talking to Victoria and Laurie. They've invited us back to their place for a New Year's Eve drink. You two in?"

Victoria and Laurie look at us with hopeful expressions. I turn to look at Bella and she shakes her head.

"Nah. I think we'll stick to our original plans," I say, giving Bella's hand a gentle squeeze.

"Okay, then. Happy New Year, sweetie," Jamie says, grabbing Bella in a hug and causing her to let go of my hand. He kisses her on the cheek and she reciprocates. He says something into her ear, and she laughs before letting him go. Bella then approaches her mother for a hug.

"Happy New Year, Eddo," Jamie says to me, reaching out and embracing me in a bro-hug.

"You too, mate," I say with a laugh at the unexpected contact.

"Congrats on getting her to say, 'Yes.' Renee, Charlie, and I know that you'll take good care of her."

"You know I will," I promise. Jamie and I let go of each other and take a step back. We watch on as Bella and her mother hug.

In this moment, I think of how Charlie, who lives and works in Sydney, will be the one to give Bella away at the wedding. Looking at Jamie, I ponder what his role will be on the day. For Bella and me, Jamie had been instrumental in getting us together. Without his devotion to Bella in finding me – her 'Soul Boy' – we may never have met after that night I was disguised as a mascot, when I still thought she was his girlfriend.

"I'd like to ask a favour." Jamie looks at me with interest. "When Bella and I get married, my brother, Emmett, will be my best man, but I'd like to ask you to be one of my groomsmen."

Appearing genuinely happy, Jamie grins. "I'd love to. It'd be an honour." He reaches his arm out and then we hug again.

"We should go," Bella says, tugging on my T-shirt impatiently. "We need to find a good spot to sit and watch the fireworks."

I briefly hug Renee and Victoria, and shake Laurie's hand, wishing each of them a Happy New Year.

"Bye guys," Bella calls out. "Don't drink too much."

We don't hear their replies as we are swallowed up by the crowd of people who are all intent on going in the same direction as us. Holding her hand tightly in mine, Bella and I head to Elder Park where there will be a midnight fireworks spectacular to bring in the New Year.

-oo0oo-

"Ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five…"

As each number is counted down, a single firework is shot high into the air from the Riverbank Bridge.

"Four, three, two, ONE!"

Bella and I kiss to celebrate the start of the New Year – 2016.

"Happy New Year, _fiancée_," I say.

She smiles widely. "Happy New Year, Soul Boy."

The pyrotechnics display starts off in earnest, and fireworks are launched from both sides of the River Torrens. The night sky above is lit up to the beat of AC/DC's '_TNT'_.

-oo0oo-

Fifteen minutes into the show, a song that I like, but don't know the name of, starts to play. I've heard Bella play it in the car on several occasions. Her musical tastes range wider than my own, which is still firmly entrenched in Northern Soul. With my arm around Bella's shoulder, I pull her down to me so we can lie on the blanket.

"What's this song called?" I ask next to Bella's ear.

"Yellow Flicker Beat. It's by Lorde."

"Beautiful," I say next to her ear.

"Yeah, it's an okay song."

"I didn't mean that the song was beautiful…"

She smiles and turns to look at me, the side of her face glowing with intermittent hues of red, orange, and yellow.

_I love you_, I mouth.

She smiles. _I love you, too_, she mouths in reply, and then she moves in to kiss me.

When our lips part from each other, my hand reaches down to clasp her fingers. My own fingers brush over the three diamonds of Bella's engagement ring. She entwines her fingers with mine and lifts our joined hands so they are at eye-level.

"Do you like it?" I ask.

"It's perfect. I absolutely love it." She has the biggest smile on her face. "When can we get married?" she asks.

"Whenever you want."

"Valentine's Day? It's a Sunday, and we both have some annual leave booked for next month."

I'm surprised she wants to get married so soon, but not unhappy. I would have thought that she'd want to spend more time planning a wedding, but with us both taking time off work in February and March, it's as good a time as any.

I nod. "Sounds good to me," I say, and I close my eyes as our lips search for each others in the semi-dark. The rest of the world fades away, and when the song ends, cheers erupt from all around, indicating that the show is over.

For the two of us though, it's really just the beginning of our new journey towards becoming husband and wife, and maybe one day, a family of mini mascots.

**The End.**

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**A/N - Thank you to all who have read, faved, pimped, and followed this silly little story. To those of you who reviewed, I have treasured your kind words.**

**Some reviewers were concerned that I'd abandoned 'Rescue To Release.' Fear not. With any luck there will be a chapter in the next few weeks. *fingers crossed***

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**Servo = **Service station (Gas station)

**"This face is leaving in five minutes…" **\- for those who don't know it, the rest of that cheesy pick up line is, **"...be on it." ***wink***  
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**May 5th 2015 - Additional A/N **

**This story came in 9th on the poll for top 10 fics completed for February 2015 on twifanfictionrecs blog. Thank you to those of you who voted.**

**BoB xx**


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